Renegade
by insignificantramblings
Summary: Facing exile from France, Enjolras chooses the only option that will allow him to stay in his beloved country: marriage. The bride? Éponine, who has no choice but to go along with the ruse to protect him. Forced sleeping arrangements, awkward interactions, and the duping of national agents ensues, and they realize their "romance" may not be as fake as they thought. e/e; modern AU
1. Introduction

**Whoops. Here I am again. I didn't quite **_**mean**_** to start a new story, but Guilt will be winding down soon, and this idea wouldn't go away. This is just an introduction; of course it starts with a crime/arrest, BUT I'm shooting for a much lighter/happier/funnier story than The Law of Love. Hope you guys enjoy this; if there's any ideas you all have/anything you would like to see, let me know! **

**Renegade; Intro **

_the renegade who had it made_

_retrieved for a bounty_

_never more to go astray _

_this will be the end today _

_of the wanted man_

"Are we supposed to act…happy? Supportive?" Courfeyrac questioned nervously, his fingers clumsily adjusting the bowtie at his neck.

"Can you…" Combeferre trailed off in agitation, his hand slapping Courfeyrac's fingers away before he took over the placement of the bowtie. "I'm not sure how we're supposed to act." He sighed, his own fingers unlooping what Courfeyrac had done. "It's not like any of us are trained for this kind of thing."

"I didn't think I would ever see the day."

"Well, technically, you really aren't."

"True." Courfeyrac mused, his eyes wandering as Combeferre put the finishing touch on his bowtie. "Do you think they'll get caught?"

"Keep your voice down." Combeferre chastised, as he stepped toward the mirror to inspect himself. "You know the story."

"Yes, of course. They were secretly dating for over a year, before they surprised us with an engagement announcement." Courfeyrac recited. Combeferre nodded.

"Exactly. Which isn't totally untrue."

"It's completely untrue, 'Ferre, what are you talking about?"

"It was a surprise."

"Yes, but they were never secretly dating. They weren't dating at all! They're still not dating!"

"Quiet." Combeferre hissed, his eyes darting around nervously. "Anyone could be here, remember?"

"It's a private event."

"It's a private event that is just for show, you know that. If they didn't think people were watching, we wouldn't even be here."

Courfeyrac said nothing, just sighed in response. In truth, he had _never_ excepted to be at Enjolras's wedding rehearsal, let alone one to their friend Éponine. It had come out, however, that the two of them had been dating on the down low for almost a year and a half, and then one day, had walked into the Musain and announced their engagement.

Except, Courfeyrac, Combeferre and the rest of the ABC Society knew it was a lie.

In reality, Enjolras had been arrested a week before his wedding rehearsal.

Fresh out of college, a young Auguste Enjolras was immediately employed in the French government, as an aide to an important member of the Ministry of Defense. Unbeknownst to his friends, Enjolras had been secretly gathering information regarding foreign policy, and internal handling. He meant to use the information to organize his own revolt; his eventual goal was to lead a protest group against the government as an "inside leader", one who had been employed within the very walls he was rebelling against.

Unfortunately, Enjolras's plans had gotten away from him, and his own coworkers had started gathering evidence against him. This information was turned into the authorities, and Enjolras was handed over the French Police.

He was immediately charged as being a "danger to society", and was instructed to leave the country. The government couldn't be bothered with a trial; they didn't want the whole country to know they had a rogue employee uncovering their secrets. Instead, they figured exile was the best option.

They did not expect Enjolras to put up such a fight. As his first, and only love would always be France, he simply refused to leave. The government lawyers argued against him, asserting that he had no reason to stay, and that if he wanted to avoid a spectacle, he would leave.

Enjolras, however, knew the law, and the stipulations. And that was why he calmly told the lawyers that he would soon – within the month – be married, and would therefore need to stay. When prompted to reveal the name of his betrothed, Enjolras took a deep breath and named the only woman he thought would help him: Éponine Thenardier.

The government lawyers were not stupid, however, and suspected fault immediately. They assured Enjolras that they would be "checking in" on he and Éponine, to be sure they were engaged in an honest way. Enjolras had expected this, and began to set up the most elaborate ruse that France had ever seen.

And now, two weeks later, at his wedding rehearsal. It had been a whirlwind for everyone: they had to find a location for the ceremony, invite guests, get Éponine a dress, and ultimately, rehearse enough stories and facts so that if _anyone _was watching, Éponine and Enjolras would look like any other newlywed couple.

It had been _exhausting_.

"Ready?" A knock at the door revealed Marius, who was nervously adjusting his own tie.

"We're ready." Courfeyrac sighed, before rolling his shoulders and turning toward the door.

"As ready as we'll ever be." Combeferre confirmed.

"Oh come on guys," Marius said, before throwing an arm around both men's shoulders. "This will be fun!"

"How do you figure?"

"Well, for one, we never thought we would ever be preparing for Enjolras's wedding, right?"

"Right…"

"And…" Marius seemed to struggle to come up with another reason. "Oh! Grantaire is taking bets for a couple different things. The first is how long it will be before Éponine kills Enjolras, and the second is for how long it takes for them to frickle frackle."

"Frickle Frackle?" Courfeyrac asked with amusement. Marius flushed.

"You know…have sex."

"I know, Marius."

"They won't be…frickle frackling." Combeferre said, rolling his eyes at the thought. "They're friends, but can you _really_ see them doing that?"

"Nope." Courfeyrac replied. "More likely that Éponine will kill him."

"Agreed."

"In any case," Marius said loudly, his hands dropping from Courfeyrac and Combeferre's shoulders. "I think we should just use tonight and tomorrow as a time to be together and celebrate."

"Celebrate what, exactly? Enjolras being arrested, or Éponine being forced into marriage with him?"

"Cynical." Marius chastised, before brightening. "Let's just celebrate new beginnings, yeah?"

Courfeyrac laughed sarcastically, before leaning forward to push open the door the banquet hall. His eyebrows raised as he regarded the scene; their friends were awkwardly standing to the left, while Enjolras's family sat to the right. Éponine and Enjolras themselves were not there yet.

"Well," Courfeyrac said cheerfully. "Here's to new beginnings!"

**Well, there's the intro! Let me know what you guys think! I'll be jumping back in time shortly to get into Enjolras asking Éponine to "marry" him, and there will be more on the arrest in the future. Love always! xoxo Brittany **


	2. Chapter 1: Questions

**Thank you guys for the positive response to the introduction! I'm really looking forward to writing this story. As usual, I'm bending the law a bit to fit my story; I'm not actually confident of the laws in France, but I'm making them up to fit into my story. You'll recognize the concept from the movie "The Proposal", but the concept is really all I'm taking from it. I've also made up a scandal with the French President (explained briefly here) as the reason why the Ministry of Defense does not want to just arrest Enjolras. Hope you all enjoy this one! **

Renegade; Chapter One

"I'll be married within the month."

It was with these six words that Auguste Enjolras changed everything. Not only for himself, not only for Éponine, but also for every single person around them. Their friends, their families, and their employers would feel the effects of the sudden and unexpected announcement.

"You're engaged?" The reaction was one of shock. Enjolras, however, fought to control his rising heart rate, and calmly answered.

"Yes. I have been for some time now."

"What's the wedding date?"

"May fifteenth."

"Where is it going to be?"

"The chapel at the Sorbonne. Reception to follow at Café Musain."

"And who," Enjolras's boss, Sebastian, who had been so cocky in exiling his subordinate, began with a sneer. "is the bride?"

"Éponine Thenardier."

"Thenardier?" Enjolras's coworker, Henri, scoffed. "As in Gregor Thenardier, the con man?"

"That," Enjolras said lowly. "Is none of your concern." As always, his tone was enough to quiet anyone, and Henri shrank back in his seat. "Now, the law, gentlemen, concerning marriage and exile."

"In the case of an _already married_ man and wife, the exiled party may stay in the country. You, Auguste, are not already married." Sebastian said haughtily.

"If you continued reading the law," Enjolras began, a smug smile appearing on his lips. "You would note that _betrothed_ parties are allowed to remain in the country as well."

Sebastian's face turned purple, and he began gnashing his teeth together in agitation. "Laws can be changed!"

"These laws have been in place since the time of Louis XIV, sir, I doubt they will be changed any time soon." Enjolras said, a full smirk on his face.

Sebastian knew he was caught. On one hand, Auguste Enjolras had information about the Ministry of Defense that could _never_ get out. He needed to be punished, silenced and exiled from the country before he could do any damage. On the other hand, after a recent scandal involving the French President and a questionable number of mistresses, the government could not afford any more bad press. Arresting an employee would not cause any trouble. Arresting potential rebel Auguste Enjolras, who had friends all over the city, would cause a scandal.

Sebastian had no choice.

"This is a measured release." He said slowly, his eyes rising to meet Enjolras. "Don't think for one second that I believe your story of marriage, Auguste. I think you're lying through your teeth, and I'm sure this Thenardier girl has no idea of your 'engagement'. We will postpone your exile."

"Postpone? I thought I was clear that I was getting married and I would have to be allowed to stay, the law clearly – "

"Postponed, in the case that we find your marriage to be…less than true." Sebastian said, cutting Enjolras off mid-sentence. "We will be checking up on the two of you."

"That's breach of privacy, you can't – "

"I work for the Ministry of Defense, Enjolras, I assure you that I can do what I want. If you fight me on this, scandal be damned, I will arrest you." Sebastian stated, staring down his nose at Enjolras with hatred. "If we find your marriage is not true, you will be arrested for fraud, and so will your little 'wife', understand?"

Enjolras said nothing, just nodded curtly, before standing from his seat and striding toward the door.

"Oh, and Enjolras? Do send us an invitation to the wedding."

* * *

When Éponine Thenardier received a text message that said "do not talk to any government officials or police", she didn't realize it would mark the start of the rest of her life. Instead, she assumed it was another one of Enjolras's 'situations'; the ones they used to get into during college that sometimes culminated in multiple arrests or temporary suspensions. It had, however, been some time _since_ college, and Éponine was slightly worried about _why_ Enjolras was tangled up with the law again.

During her lunch hour, she asked Combeferre and Courfeyrac, who were sharing a piece of cake at the Musain, if they had received a similar text. Éponine's worry increased when the response was negative. A quick check with Marius and Cosette (who were also at the Musain) also produced confusion, and Éponine's worry turned into serious anxiety.

As a Thenardier, the presence of police and government workers was always a concern. Éponine would never forget the connotations of officers; as a child, it meant foster care, as a teenager, it was juvenile detention, and now, it was worry for herself and her siblings that her father had escaped prison.

The hours passed as Éponine worked at the homeless shelter downtown, passing out food to patrons and speaking with the children who approached the table. She had gone to school for business, but found that the harsh corporate world was not for her. Midway through school, she had changed her major to political science, later graduating with honors. Her days were spent at the homeless shelter, while her nights were full of classes for her Socio-economic Development masters program. Her eventual goal was to dedicate herself not only to aiding the less fortunate, but trying to find solutions to end their suffering.

When Éponine left the shelter at six, she headed to the Musain for dinner. It was Wednesday, the day when the former ABC Society gathered at the Musain until close to midnight. Wednesdays had been the allotted time for their meetings during college, so it only seemed fitting to meet on the same day.

"Éponine! Did you ever hear from Enjolras?" Courfeyrac called as soon as she entered the café. He was sitting in the same seat he had occupied during lunch. Combeferre was still next to him.

"No, not yet. He won't answer my messages, so I guess I'll just talk to him tonight." Éponine sighed, her shoulders shrugging as she approached the table. She dropped her bag and slumped into the seat; her days were always spent standing, and she was exhausted every night.

"What happened?" Grantaire questioned. He was walking to the table from the front counter, balancing soup in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other.

"Enjolras texted 'Ponine something really odd today, we're just talking about it." Combeferre supplied. At Grantaire's raised eyebrow of confusion, Combeferre looked to Éponine.

"He said," she started, pausing to pick up her phone. "'do not talk to any government officials or police'."

"Weird."

"Not for Enjolras," Courfeyrac pointed out, and Grantaire shrugged again.

"Maybe not for Enjolras in college, but now? He's employed for the Ministry of Defense, what sort of thing could he be getting into?" Grantaire reasoned. Everyone was silent as they considered.

"Would he intentionally get in trouble?" Courfeyrac asked.

"You know him, what do you think?"

"Absolutely yes." Courfeyrac said flatly. "Especially if it was something for the rights of the people or something like that."

"None of the prisons have called yet looking for bail money."

"True, but he has his phone, he texted Éponine…"

"And that too, why me?" Éponine questioned. "If he was in trouble, why not text all of us?"

"That, my friend, will be answered soon, because here he comes." Grantaire said, pointing out the window. Éponine turned around to see Enjolras, just outside the door. In lieu of waiting, Éponine stood, and strode to the door. She opened it before he had a chance to, and with a questioning look, asked him what was going on. He calmly asked her if she would get into his car so they could talk, and with a wave to the three men inside the café, she left.

"What's going on?" Éponine's first question was blunt, and to the point.

"I'm in trouble."

"Legal?"

"Yes."

"What did you do?"

"I love that your question is what I did, and not if I'm guilty or not." Enjolras said, a hint of a smile on his face.

"Well, I know you, and you probably did something." Éponine pointed out, and Enjolras laughed lightly.

"You're right. I was snooping."

"At work?"

"Yes."

"At the _Ministry of Defense_?"

"That is in fact where I work."

"Don't be smart, Enjolras, are you telling me that you were snooping information on the government's defense?"

"Yes."

"And you didn't think you would get caught?"

"Not really."

"And you did."

"Obviously."

"Okay." Éponine took a deep breath, before turning her focus out the front window. They were driving on a back road in Paris, and there were no other cars in sight. "What does this have to do with me?"

"Don't be mad at me." Enjolras said, a hint of hesitation in his tone. "I had to…make some claims."

"What kind of claims?" Éponine's voice was cautious; she had no idea what to expect.

"That…um…" Éponine had never seen Enjolras at a loss for words. It would have been comical, had she not been so nervous.

"Spit it out."

"I told them I was getting married." Enjolras spoke so fast, Éponine almost didn't catch his words.

"Okay…"

"I told them I was getting married to you."

Silence followed Enjolras's declaration. He stared at the window, his fingers holding the steering wheel in a death grip. Éponine's jaw slackened, her thoughts running through her head at a mile a minute.

"You told them _what_?" Éponine's tone was low, and deadly.

"I'm sorry," Enjolras said quickly. "I didn't mean to – "

"You told them we're _getting married?_"

"Yes, and I'm sorry. I didn't want to drag you into this, but there were no other options, I had to say something –"

"_No other options?" _Éponine shouted incredulously. Enjolras jumped, and jerked the wheel to the left. "Pull the _fuck_ over, _now."_ In lieu of arguing, Enjolras turned on his blinker, and pulled the car to the right side of the road. "You are telling me that you _knowingly_ broke the law, snooped the Ministry of Defense, and then when you were _caught_ – which by the way, was _your fault_ – you told them you were marrying me?"

Enjolras finally turned away from the windshield to face Éponine. "I'm sorry, I know it was my fault, but I was hoping you would help me."

"Help you? _Of course_ I would help you. I would help you with bond money, or a ride, or finding a lawyer, but _marrying you?_ That's insane, Enjolras, and you know it."

"I do know it, Éponine, and again, I'm sorry, but I told them we were getting married on May fifteenth, and – "

"TWO WEEKS FROM NOW?"

Enjolras flinched. "Yes, two weeks from now."

"And did you ever once consider me, Enjolras? Or did you just assume that I would help you?"

"Well, of course, I hoped you would, I would do the same for you –"

"The difference is, Enjolras, that I wouldn't ask you to do this." Éponine said bitterly. "You don't think before you do things, and you certainly didn't think about how this would affect me."

"We could get divorced in a year, it would be okay…"

"Okay? What if one of us meets someone? What if I don't _want_ to be married and divorced by age 25?" Éponine asked with exasperation, wondering _what _was so difficult that Enjolras did not _get._

"I know it's not ideal, but…"

"Take me home." Éponine commanded, shifting her eyes back to the road. "I don't want to talk about this."

"But we have so much to get together, stories to rehearse…"

"Enjolras! Don't. Just drive." Éponine tried in vain to hide the tears gathering in her eyes. "Take me home, _now._"

Enjolras put the car back in drive and started down the street.

"Éponine, I – "

"Don't speak."

"I just –"

"I do not want to speak to you." Éponine said through gritted teeth.

"Okay."

The ten-minute ride passed in silence. Tears ran unchecked down Éponine's face; on one hand, she was pissed off at Enjolras, and _certainly_ did not want to marry him in two weeks. On the other hand, Enjolras was one of her friends, and she didn't want him to be exiled. Not that it would be her fault, since he had been the one breaking the law.

"We're here." Enjolras murmured. Éponine looked up to see the front of her apartment building.

"Thanks for the ride." Éponine muttered. She turned to the door, her fingers closing around the handle, until a gentle hand on her arm pulled her back.

"You don't have to do this." Enjolras said gently, his eyes more earnest than Éponine had ever seen. "I'm sorry I said what I did. You're right…I wasn't thinking. I was too in the moment, and only considering myself. I'm sorry."

"Enjolras. You're right, you weren't thinking, and you were being selfish." Éponine began. A small smile of regret appeared on Enjolras's face. "But I'm your friend, and…if you need a wife for a little while, I can do that."

"You…you're serious?" Enjolras's jaw dropped as he considered her words.

"I'm serious." Éponine said flatly. "But, one condition."

"Anything."

"Buy me a nice ring. If we're doing this, _nothing _will be half-ass."

**As always, reviews/suggestions are appreciated. Thank you for your support! xoxo Brittany**


	3. Chapter 2: News

**HEY EVERYONE. Sorry for the delay :/ I know I suck. THE THING IS. I just got a promotion at work (!) and have been LOADED busy/stressed/overwhelmed, but all in all, it has been a GREAT learning experience and I'm glad it's happening! Unfortunately, it's taken away a lot of my leisure time, because my brain is "WORK WORK WORK" all the time, but you guys should know I'm not going to forget about any stories! Without further ado (and excuses), here is chapter two! **

* * *

Chapter Two: News

"I have something really important to tell you." Éponine's voice was grave as she regarded Cosette, whose smile dropped off her face instantly.

"What's going on?" Cosette's voice was panicked. "Are you dying? Is Gav dying? Am I dying?"

"No one is dying." Éponine said, suppressing a smile at Cosette's concern. "It's…I'm getting married."

Cosette said nothing, just stared blankly. Éponine waited patiently for her to process the information, which took nearly thirty seconds.

"Getting…married?" Cosette questioned slowly. "I didn't even know you were dating anyone."

"Well…technically I'm not…and I haven't been."

"Then how…"

"It's a long story, but basically, Enjolras –"

"YOU'RE MARRYING ENJOLRAS?"

"Keep your voice down!" Éponine hissed, her eyes darting around Cosette's apartment. Marius could walk in at any time, and Enjolras wanted to tell all of his friends what was going on.

"I'm sorry, but REALLY?" Cosette asked, her eyebrows still raised in shock. "Not that it's completely surprising, but – "

"Hang on, what do you mean it's not completely surprising? It is a surprise…It's not even real…" Éponine trailed off, ignoring Cosette's eye roll.

"Please, Éponine, I've thought for a few years that you two would go really well together. You just…balance each other out. Plus, you get along really well, so it's not like the sexual thing couldn't just develop."

"Ew, okay, stop. This isn't a marriage like that…this is happening because Enjolras got arrested at work and needs to get married so he doesn't get deported!"

Again, Cosette was silent as she tried to process the information. "Arrested?" She finally asked. "What did he do this time?"

"Snooped at his job."

"At the Ministry of Defense." Cosette deadpanned, her eyes rolling skyward. "Why am I not shocked? Are we invigorating the people again? Do we have to bail him and Courf out of jail for inciting a riot again?"

Éponine laughed at the memory of their sophomore year of college. Enjolras and Courfeyrac had attended an informative seminar about a law change that affected the rights of the people. Enjolras – as usual – had gotten so worked up that he had started ranting about the social structure of France, and had eventually gotten so many people interested in his cause that a riot broke out. The police showed up soon after and arrested Enjolras, and then Courfeyrac, who had tried to defend his friend from the police.

"I honestly don't know what he's doing." Éponine admitted honestly, before shrugging her shoulders gently. "He…he hasn't told me what it was that he found."

"Aren't you his betrothed?" Cosette teased, a smirk on her face. "Shouldn't he be honest with you?"

In lieu of answering, Éponine's face crumbled. The smile immediately dropped from Cosette's face and she surged forward to wrap Éponine in her arms.

"I'm just kidding, I'm joking, I'm sorry…" She rambled, which only caused Éponine to cry harder.

"It's not…you…" She sobbed, her face buried into the crook of Cosette's elbow. "I don't…want…to get married!"

Cosette stopped, and considered Éponine's predicament. On one hand, she _really _had always thought that Éponine and Enjolras would make a spectacular couple. On the other hand, they weren't dating. They weren't even best friends. Granted, they had known each other for a number of years, had been through quite a lot together, and were _good_ friends. But if…say, Combeferre had asked Cosette to marry him? Marius aside, would she be able to give up her entire life to marry a friend to keep them safe? Cosette wasn't sure if she could.

But, Éponine was a lot braver than she was, that much Cosette knew.

"Honey, I understand." Cosette said soothingly. "I don't blame you; I wouldn't want to do this either. But what you're doing… it's so commendable, you know that? You're so brave, and such an amazing friend, to do this for him. And you know…you know he appreciates it immensely, even if he has a hard time showing it."

"I know." Éponine sniffed, her head rising off Cosette's arm. She dragged her sleeve across her nose and took a deep breath, her eyes stinging from the tears. She hadn't cried in a _long_ time. "And I can't imagine not helping him. It's just kind of shitty, you know?"

"I understand." Cosette said. "Also…it's not too late to back out."

"I can't." Éponine said, shaking her head forlornly. "Even if I really wanted to, I couldn't. I can't let Enjolras get deported."

"Technically it wouldn't be your fault. He's the idiot that decided snooping the Ministry of Defense was a good idea."

"You're right…but I've agreed. And he would do the same for any of us."

Cosette sighed; she knew Éponine was right. "Well, look on the bright side." Cosette started cautiously; it seemed that Éponine's tears had stopped. "You are going to have one hot husband."

Éponine laughed, her eyes rolling skyward at Cosette's conclusion. "Serious matters aside, you're right." She admitted. "He is pretty hot."

"And when you guys do the do…"

"Stop now."

"In all seriousness, anything you need, any support, you know I've got your back, right?"

"Of course. Oh, I forgot…be my maid of honor?" Éponine questioned. At once, Cosette's eyes filled with tears.

"I would be honored!"

"And of course…next time, when it's real, I want you there, too."

"Of course." Cosette said, but as she leaned forward to wrap Éponine in another hug, only one thought was on her mind: "Operation Make Éponine and Enjolras Fall In Love" was _on_.

* * *

"If this is going to amount in arrest, I want no part of it." Courfeyrac's demeanor was dead serious as he regarded Enjolras, who was standing in the front of the Musain, his friends all peering at him from their seats.

"No, Courf, there will be no arrests." Enjolras sighed, his fingers rising to rub circles into his forehead. He could already tell that it was going to be a long night.

"What's going on, then?" Marius asked, the whine evident in his voice. "Cosette has tonight off, I'd really like to get home to – " A glare from Enjolras halted his words.

Enjolras took a deep breath. "There's really no easy way to say this. I'm getting married."

Bahorel dropped his coffee. Courfeyrac's mouth was hanging open. Combeferre looked like he had just eaten something unpleasant. Marius's eyes were wider than they had been the time he walked in on Combeferre and Courfeyrac. Joly was nervously glancing between Lesgle and Feuilly, who were sitting on either side of him looking dumbstruck. Only Grantaire looked amused.

"Wow, douchebag, thanks for telling us that you were dating someone, we're only your best friends!" He said cheerfully, though there was no trace of humor in his tone. Enjolras sighed again, his impending migraine pulsating behind his eyes.

"I'm not."

"Then how…" Marius asked, trailing off. He had been dating Cosette for _years_, and they weren't married, let alone engaged.

"It's…it's not a real marriage." Enjolras said slowly. When no one interrupted, he took a deep breath and charged on. "I was snooping at my job and I got caught and they were going to deport me and one way that you can avoid being deported is by getting married so I told them I was going to be getting married to Éponine so now I won't get deported and the wedding is in less than two weeks."

He said this all very fast. After several seconds, the room erupted.

"Hang on, you were going to be deported?"

"You were _snooping at the Ministry of Defense?"_

"Éponine agreed to marry _you_?"

"You're going to fake a _marriage?"_

"You REALLY think this is going to work?"

"I'm honestly shocked Éponine didn't throttle him." Grantaire said, rolling his eyes as he took a swig of his beer. There was a murmur of agreement.

"Yeah, what _did_ she say?" Courfeyrac asked suspiciously. "You _have_ told her, right?"

"Of course I've told her. She was…not overly thrilled, but she agreed."

"Are you an idiot? Of course she wasn't thrilled!" Combeferre burst out, his eyes wide at his friend's stupidity. "This may be news to you, but girls plan their wedding from the time they're like… ten. Nobody wants their first marriage to be _fake_!"

"Well, I don't either, but she's agreed to help me until this all blows over, and then we can get divorced." Enjolras said logically. "It's just marriage, it's not hard to undo."

"You utter ass." Courfeyrac said lowly, ignoring Combeferre's calming hand on his arm. "Do you even understand how hard _our_ community has had to fight for the right to marry? And you sit here saying that having a fake marriage is no big deal, and that it's not hard to undo? Jesus fucking Christ."

"Courfeyrac, that's not what I meant…" Enjolras said, trailing off as Courfeyrac stood.

"I'm going to go and see Éponine." He announced. "She needs _someone_ who's supportive of her through all this. I can already tell that her _husband_ – " He spit the word like venom. "- will not be."

Without another word, he walked out of the café. Combeferre sent an apologetic look to the group, before hurrying out after his boyfriend.

"That went well." Marius observed, sarcasm laced through his words.

"Yeah, you really fucked that one up!" Grantaire said lightly. Enjolras ground his teeth together in agitation.

"Maybe you should…apologize to them, and then go and talk to Éponine?" Joly suggested quietly. Enjolras nodded curtly.

"You're right." He said, his frustration and shame mounting by the second. He had already asked Éponine to marry him, completely for his own gain, and now, he had made a mockery of a right that had been denied to his two best friends until recently. Some fighter for justice _he_ was.

"How did Éponine really react?" Marius asked. Enjolras shrugged.

"She was upset." He said honestly. "But she agreed to help. I told her she didn't need to, but she still said she would. She's…doing me a huge favor, and I'll never be able to repay her. I feel…bad that she is doing this, even though it's helping me."

"You have emotions!" Bahorel said sarcastically.

"But think!" Jehan suddenly announced. "Think of the possibilities! You two will be living together, correct?"

Enjolras considered the question, before nodding. "I suppose we have to, since we're being monitored."

"So the whole 'marriage is a sham' thing has to stay between us?" Feuilly asked, to which Enjolras nodded.

"Anyway!" Jehan said, bringing the attention back to his speech. "They'll be living together. Close proximity. No way to get away from each other. They're already friends. They're both attractive people. Something is bound to happen."

"Something…" Enjolras said, trailing off in confusion. If Jehan was suggesting that the close proximity would make them murder each other, then he was probably right.

"Jesus, Enjolras, use your brain." Bahorel said, rolling his eyes in agitation.

"Sex, Enjolras, sex!" Marius said, practically bouncing in his chair. "Jehan, I think you're onto something."

"No, no, no, stop it, all of you!" Enjolras said, trying to keep his voice in check as his cheeks heated. Everyone was smirking at his obvious discomfort.

"What's the matter, don't you think Éponine is attractive?"

"Of course I do, but I'm sure you all do, too…"

"And she's smart?"

"Obviously, but that's a no brainer…"

"And you're going to be married, living together, putting on a façade of a couple?"

"Yes, but…"

"You're going to bone." Grantaire deadpanned. "Hope you know what you're doing."

The room exploded in laughter. Enjolras sank into a chair, before laying his aching head on his arms. If tonight was any indication, married life was going to be _hell._

* * *

**Woohoo! Let me know what you guys think, and I'll try to have chapter 3 out next week! **


	4. Chapter 3: Rings

**Hey everyone! Sorry this took so long for me to get up…I think you all can probably expect one chapter a week at BEST, and one every two-ish weeks at worst. Once I take the GRE (June 14****th****) I'll probably have more time, and the updates will be closer together. **

**I want to take a second to thank everyone for the incredible support you've all shown for this story! I really appreciate it, and I love reading your reviews/predictions! **

* * *

Renegade: Chapter Three; Rings

The following morning, Enjolras called Éponine at eight in the morning. She had just rolled out of bed, and was still rubbing sleep from her eyes when her phone went off. Her shoulders dropped mid-stretch in agitation; she had been looking forward to getting some studying done for her masters program, but one look at her phone made her realize she wouldn't even be _looking _at her books that day.

"Enjolras." Éponine acknowledged, in lieu of a greeting.

"Good morning."

"Do you need something?"

"I…" Enjolras hesitated, slightly put off by her agitated tone. The night before, after his disastrous announcement at the café, he had gone to see Éponine (after calling Courfeyrac and Combeferre, and apologizing profusely). The visit with Éponine had resulted in a productive talk, and a huge list of things they needed to accomplish before their upcoming nuptials. Contrary to Courfeyrac's assumption, Éponine had not appeared very upset.

Of course, Enjolras didn't have much of a clue when it came to women's emotions.

"You…"

"I was wondering if you wanted to get started on our list today?" Enjolras asked hesitantly. "We could…go pick out a ring?"

That piqued Éponine's attention. She didn't consider herself to be very materialistic, but the idea of sporting a large diamond ring was an exciting prospect. She also knew that Enjolras came from money, so she didn't feel _too_ bad about getting a ring.

"We could." Éponine said nonchalantly. "I have a lot of studying to do, though, so I can't be out all day today."

"That's fine." Enjolras said quickly. He wanted to be sure that Éponine knew that he was flexible with their plans, and supportive of her continuing education. "I'll pick you up in…an hour? We can stop for breakfast if you want."

"That's fine." Éponine conceded. "See you then." She hung up without saying goodbye.

It wasn't that she was _mad_ at Enjolras. She was still angry about the _situation_, but she wasn't mad at him, per say. It was just that he caused the situation, and therefore, her anger happened to transfer to him. She tossed her phone on her bed and took a deep breath. It was going to be an interesting morning, that was for sure.

* * *

"All finished?" The waiter at a local café questioned, indicating Éponine's empty plate. She flinched in surprise; he had interrupted the awkward silence that she and Enjolras had been sharing for nearly their entire meal.

"Yes, thank you." Éponine said, lifting her plate to hand to him.

"Could we get the check?" Enjolras asked, and the waiter nodded, reaching into his apron pocket to retrieve it. He handed it to Enjolras, who glanced at it, before reaching into his back pocket to pull out his wallet. Why it was so silent, and _so awkward_, he didn't really know, but he was desperate to leave.

"Enjolras, you – " Éponine started, but a glance from Enjolras stalled her words. He slipped his credit card into the folder with the check, and handed it back to the waiter.

"Éponine, we're engaged. I think I can pay for breakfast."

She huffed in response. "You're paying for my ring, I could have paid for breakfast."

Enjolras snorted. "I doubt the twenty bucks for breakfast will matter after we get the ring."

Before Éponine could respond, the waiter returned with the check. Enjolras scrawled his signature and stowed his card back in his wallet, before turning back to Éponine.

"Ready to go?" He asked, to which she nodded. They both stood, and Enjolras held the door open to allow her to exit the restaurant before him. Once on the street, he offered her his arm, which she took.

"Keeping up appearances?" She muttered sarcastically. A rueful smile appeared on Enjolras's face.

"We have to."

"I know."

"I'm cold too." Enjolras offered, nudging Éponine in the rib with his elbow. She smiled in spite of herself, but did not answer. Her annoyance with their situation had not abated, but she had to remind herself that Enjolras had always been a good friend. She couldn't hate him for making a mistake and needing help.

Not too much, anyway.

"We're here."

"Enjolras, no." Éponine said immediately. Her eyes had travelled from the ground to the sign for the jewelry store.

"Éponine, don't argue."

"_Tiffanys_? We have to pay rent on an apartment; I don't need you spending a hundred grand on an engagement ring for me."

"First of all, they're not a hundred grand." Enjolras said, rolling his eyes at her exaggeration. "Second of all, we will have plenty of money for an apartment."

"I know your family is rich and all," Éponine began, sarcasm lacing her words. "But I do not need an expensive ring."

"Just come look, okay?"

"You know if I look I'll fall in love with one, and then you'll buy it and you'll win this argument, right?"

"Exactly, come on." Enjolras smirked, before pulling her into the store. The rom was moderately lit, with security guards everywhere, guarding the numerous diamonds inside the lit cases. Enjolras's eyes scanned the room, before he spotted the engagement rings. He dragged Éponine past yellow diamonds and "return to Tiffany" pendants, to reach the display.

"This is unnecessary." Éponine muttered, as she glanced around the store.

"Just let me do this…as a thank you." Enjolras said with finality, before turning to the counter.

"Can I help you?" A woman questioned. She was impeccably dressed, a sparkling diamond sitting on her own finger, a smile on her face.

"Yes, we're looking for an engagement ring." Enjolras said, a small smile spreading across his face as he indicated Éponine at his side.

"Congratulations!" The woman said, her smile growing wider. "When is the big day?"

"Two weeks."

"Two weeks?!" She exclaimed, and Éponine could almost hear the scathing , unasked 'are you pregnant?' in her voice.

"It's soon, but when you know, you just know." Enjolras said, his gaze drifting to Éponine, his hand reaching out to take hers. She was surprised by the sudden outflow of emotions from the usually stoic man, but she reminded herself that they were supposed to be a happy couple, and forced a smile on her face.

"Well, my name is Diana, and I will help you pick the perfect ring! What are you looking for?" The saleswoman prompted, and Éponine colored, realizing that she did not know much about diamonds.

"Uh…I'm not really sure." She said honestly, her gaze drifting down to the case. In truth, many of them looked the same.

"One diamond, or three?"

"Uh… " Éponine leaned in, her eyes drifting over the various styles. "One, I think."

"What cut are you looking for?"

"Can I just try on a few?" Éponine questioned, forcing the smile to stay on her face. Was this woman _trying _to make her feel like an idiot?

"Sure, let's start with a princess cut, and go from there." Diana reached into the case and pulled out a single ring, handing it to Éponine to try on.

As she slipped it onto her finger, Éponine caught sight of the price tag. Her heart dropped.

"Enjolras." She hissed, her eyes narrowing at her fiancé. "This is fifteen thousand dollars."

"Honey, nothing is too much for you." He said smoothly. Éponine blinked.

"Isn't that sweet." Diana swooned, her eyes raking up and down Enjolras's torso; it was clear that she was checking him out, and didn't particularly care if his fiancée was standing right there. Éponine's eyes narrowed further.

"Oh, he's the sweetest." She said innocently, turning to gaze adoringly at Enjolras. "I certainly found myself a great husband." Éponine noted the agitated look on Diana's face at the display of affection.

Enjolras blushed, surprised by her sudden rush of affection for him. What on earth…

In lieu of responding, Enjolras nodded toward the ring. "Do you like it?"

Éponine pushed it onto her finger, and held her hand up to inspect. "It's okay," she said nonchalantly. She had just decided that she _really_ disliked their saleswoman, and wanted to make her job as difficult as possible.

"Just okay?" Enjolras asked, his eyebrow furrowing in confusion. It was a _beautiful_ ring. Even he knew that, and he didn't know much about rings or weddings.

"Can I see the next one?" Éponine asked innocently.

The saleswoman smiled, though it id not quite reach her eyes. She passed ring after ring to Éponine, who continued to act noncommittal and unimpressed. Finally, after twenty-two different rings, Éponine took a deep breath.

"I think I like this one the most." She announced, holding up a solitaire, cushion cut, single diamond ring with a silver band. It was simple, but elegant. It was perfect.

"That's the second on you tried on," Diana said, the smile still frozen on her face. In truth, Éponine had fallen in love with the ring the second she had slipped it onto her finger. It was exactly what she wanted – and she hadn't even known what she was looking for. The further twenty rings were simply for her own amusement; every time she leaned into Enjolras, Diana looked angry. And every time Éponine rejected a ring, she took deep satisfaction in the look of annoyance on the saleswoman's face.

"What do you think, honey?" Éponine asked, holding up her hand for Enjolras to inspect the ring.

Enjolras colored again, leaning forward to inspect the ring. "I like it." He said slowly, as Éponine beamed up at him.

"We'll take this one." She said, taking it off and handing it back to Diana, who still looked like she had tasted something rather bad.

"I'll meet you at the register." Diana said lowly, and Éponine nodded, before cheerfully tugging Enjolras toward the front of the store.

"God, what a bitch that woman was." Éponine said, as soon as they were out of earshot. Enjolras's eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"She was?"

"Enjolras, do you pay attention?" Éponine asked incredulously, her eyes rolling sarcastically. "She was looking at you like you're a piece of meat!"

"I didn't…notice." He said lamely, a blush creeping back onto his face.

"She got very annoyed every time we acted couple-y." Éponine noted. Enjolras's eyes widened in comprehension.

"So _that's_ why you were acting like that!"

"Like what?"

"All touchy and lovey!"

"Of course," Éponine said, with a shrug of her shoulders. "What was it? Keeping up appearances?"

"Yeah, that's it." Enjolras said quietly, ignoring the strange feeling of disappointment coiled in his stomach.

* * *

"They're gone, let's move." Enjolras's boss, Sebastian said.

"What exactly are we asking?" Henri, Enjolras's coworker, questioned.

"You're not asking anything." Sebastian said patiently, holding the door open for Henri to follow him into the store. Once inside, he held up his badge to the security guard.

"What can I help you with?" The guard questioned. Sebastian nodded his head toward Diana, who was still putting rings back into the case.

"We need to speak with that woman about the couple that was just in here."

A few moments later, Diana, Sebastian, and Henri were standing in the corner of Tiffany's, holding a low discussion.

"They seemed very in love, almost to a disgusting degree." Diana said, her nose wrinkled. "She tried on more than twenty rings, and then went back to the second one she had seen."

"Nothing suspicious, though?" Sebastian prompted.

"Only that their wedding is in two weeks. Is she pregnant?"

"Why is that suspicious?" Sebastian asked, ignoring Diana's question.

"Well, most men propose with a ring…they don't bring their fiancée in after to pick one out. Especially not two weeks before the wedding. Women like to flaunt their rings for the duration of their engagement."

"So, in your expert opinion, you think they became engaged pretty recently?"

"I would think so," Diana said, with a small shrug of her shoulders. "They're young, though. Foolish. Don't understand that weddings take time and planning."

"Thank you for your time." Sebastian said, leaning forward to shake her hand, before motioning to Henri to leave.

"I don't think he's foolish." Sebastian said distractedly, as he pushed the door of Tiffany's back open to exit.

Henri looked over at him. "Sir?"

"I think he's brilliant. And I think he's lying. And we're going to catch him."

* * *

**Hope you guys liked this chapter. Coming up soon – finding an apartment, picking a cake, choosing a venue for the wedding, the DRESS (!)….and then the wedding! And then the REAL fun begins! **

**Thank you all for the love, as always, and I'll see you soon! xoxo Brittany **


	5. Chapter 4: Apartment Hunting

**Hey everyone! I'm completely overwhelmed by the response to this story; you're all incredible! As always, anything that you would like to see in this story, leave it in the review box. I have a loose plan, but there's room for more! **

* * *

Chapter Four: Apartment Hunting

"Good _lord,_ look at that!" Cosette breathed as she examined Éponine's engagement ring. Her eyes were wide with wonder, and she held Éponine's hand as close to her face as she could to see every facet and sparkle. "He really took you to Tiffany?"

"He did." Éponine grumbled.

"You don't sound thrilled."

"The woman at the store was ridiculous, looking Enjolras up and down, practically _drooling_. It was disgusting."

Cosette raised an eyebrow. "Were you jealous?

"No," Éponine scoffed. "Enjolras thought I was, too. I told him I was keeping up appearances. He's said it at least three times already."

"In case his boss is hanging around?" Cosette asked, to which Éponine nodded.

"I mean, it makes sense. It's just difficult to pretend to be madly in love with someone who's only a friend."

"I get that," Cosette said slowly. "But do you think you're maybe a little…put out because his affections are just for show?"

"No," Éponine said immediately, missing the small smirk that appeared on Cosette's face at her tone. "I'm not, like, in love with the guy."

"I know that." Cosette said quickly. "It's just…this is the first time Enjolras has had to be affectionate toward a woman. Maybe you're a little…annoyed that it's fake? As his friend, of course."

"Maybe," Éponine allowed, shrugging her shoulders. "I'm not totally sure, I might just still be angry with him."

"You've never had any sort of feelings for him, whatsoever?" Cosette asked bluntly.

"No."

"Not in college?"

"Nah."

"Not when he was arrested and we had to go and get him at the police station?"

"Absolutely not."

"Not the time you found out he carried your drunk ass home after the graduation party?"

"No," Éponine said again, though this time, her tone was unsure. Cosette smiled triumphantly. "I've never had feelings for him," Éponine continued. "I just…I don't know. I guess, maybe, in college. He was so…passionate about things he believed in. It was amazing to watch, you know?" Cosette nodded; she remembered the rallies and speeches Enjolras had organized. "He's good looking." Éponine allowed, to which Cosette nodded again; there was no denying it. "That doesn't mean that I was jealous of some woman checking him out. It was just rude of her."

"Of course," Cosette said. Éponine opened her mouth to respond, but was cut off by the ringing of her phone.

"Hey, Enjolras." She said, and Cosette smirked again. Éponine rolled her eyes, before turning away from her friend to focus on the phone call.

"You think?" Éponine frowned. "I guess you're right." She sighed, listening for several seconds, before rolling her eyes in agitation. "Today? You want to do this today?" She ran a hand through her hair in agitation before speaking again. "Fine, I'll meet you there. " She hung up the phone, turning back to Cosette.

"Enjolras would like us to find an apartment together."

"Ah, moving in?" Cosette asked with a knowing smile.

"I guess. The ultimate in keeping up appearances."

"You're going now?"

"It can't wait, or so he says."

"Well, good luck." Cosette said, reaching forward to hug Éponine around the shoulders tightly. "I'll see you later, call me if you find a place."

Éponine nodded. "Will do. See you later." She turned, opening the door to Marius and Cosette's apartment. She paused in the doorway, turning back around to Cosette. "I'm not in love with Enjolras." She said with finality, and Cosette nodded.

"I know."

"Just checking. I'll call you later." Éponine said, turning and closing the door.

Once Éponine was out of the apartment, a smile spread across Cosette's face. "I know you're not in love with Enjolras," she said to the closed door. "Not yet, anyway."

* * *

"This is the area you would like to be in?" An hour after she left Cosette's apartment, Éponine was standing near the center of Paris with Enjolras and a real estate agent named Jean.

"I think so," Enjolras said, looking down to Éponine, who nodded in response.

"It's a good midpoint for our work," She agreed.

"This area is going to be a little above your budget." Jean said slowly. "You're very central to everything here, and that's a little more expensive than, say, the suburbs."

"We don't want the suburbs." Enjolras said quickly, a look of horror spreading over his face. Éponine stifled a giggle at his overreaction.

"It was just a suggestion," Jean said. "If you're going to have children in the near future, the houses are much bigger out there, anyway."

"That's true," Enjolras allowed. Éponine looked up at him in alarm.

"That won't be for a few years." She said through gritted teeth.

"Of course," Jean said, before pointing toward a building to their right. "This will be our first stop. It is about a hundred euro over your budget – " He paused to gauge their reaction, before continuing. "But I think you'll find that it is a charming place."

He led them across the street to the front door. Once inside the apartment, Jean led them down, instead of up.

"Where are we going?" Éponine questioned in confusion.

"This is a subterranean apartment." Éponine stopped in her tracks.

"No." She said immediately. Jean and Enjolras turned to look at her. "We are _not_ living underground, especially not for rent over our budget."

"Understood." Enjolras said, turning around to usher her back up the stairs. "What's the cheapest apartment we can get above ground?"

* * *

For three hours, Éponine and Enjolras toured apartments. They looked at the smallest studio flat they had ever seen; the bed pulled down from the ceiling, and when it was down, there was no room for a couch. They saw a rat infested building with mold on the walls. They toured an apartment for double their budget, with no kitchen appliances. At the end of the day, they had nothing.

"I'll call you if I find anything," Jean said, but his undertone was clear: they would be finding _nothing_.

"Thank you," Enjolras said with a defeated wave. Jean waved back, before getting in his car and driving away.

"That was awful." Éponine said. "Why don't we look where we are now?"

"Don't we want something more…central? Closer to our jobs?"

"Ideally." Éponine said. "But not if we can't afford it. And I don't want any of your trust fund money going into this, too." She eyed her ring with a mixture of love and contempt.

"You love that ring." Enjolras said, a smirk on his face. Éponine shrugged.

"It's okay."

"Liar."

"Fine, it's perfect. But it wasn't worth – "

"Be quiet, and enjoy the ring."

"Fine." Éponine huffed. "Maybe he was right."

"About what?"

"The suburbs."

"No," Enjolras said immediately, shaking his head. "We'll both live in my apartment before we do that."

"Enjolras," Éponine said suddenly. "Don't you have two bedrooms?"

"What do you mean?" Enjolras asked distractedly; he was still thinking about how awful the suburbs would be.

"You have two bedrooms."

"In my apartment now? No, I don't."

"Yes, you do. Your room, and your office."

"That's not a bedroom."

"It has a closet…" Éponine said, trailing off in confusion. She had been in Enjolras's apartment only a handful of times, but she knew there were two bedrooms.

"That is my library."

Several seconds passed in silence before Éponine burst out laughing. Enjolras looked at her, a concerned expression on his face. "What is so funny?"

"You don't have a _library_. It's a _bedroom_."

"I use it as a library."

"Well, guess what? It's a bedroom now."

"What are you…"

"We're moving into your apartment. We can't afford one where we want to live, we have to move in together before the wedding, we have to _pay_ for the wedding, and this is just much easier."

"Why can't we move into your apartment?" Enjolras contended. Éponine snorted in laughter.

"Yours is at least three times the size of mine. Plus, mine only has one bedroom."

"But…" Enjolras said, struggling to find an argument. "Where will I put all my books?"

"You have, what? One couch in your living room?" Enjolras nodded. "Okay," Éponine said, taking a deep breath. "We move your bookshelves into the living room, and make the second bedroom an actual bedroom."

"That won't work." Enjolras said immediately.

"And why not?"

"Because…" Enjolras said, trailing off uncertainly. "There isn't room in the living room for all my books."

"We'll figure it out." Éponine said, patting him on the arm. "I can't believe I didn't think of this before! We just wasted so much time."

"Mmm." Enjolras agreed. In truth, he _had_ thought of it before. He had just wanted to find something new…something more central, closer to work, closer to the café, and something they _both_ had chosen.

"What's wrong?"

"I just…I thought we could find something a lot better." He admitted, shrugging his shoulders. "I thought we could get something that we both liked."

"I like your apartment," Éponine said immediately. "I even just suggested it!"

"I know," Enjolras said quickly. "I guess we can both keep commuting."

"It's fine," Éponine assured him. "And maybe once the wedding is over, we'll have some more money to get something new."

"You're right," Enjolras conceded. "Want to head over there now and figure out the arrangement?"

"Definitely," Éponine agreed. "We can look at our list, too."

"And then the Musain?"

"Deal."

* * *

"We have so. much. to. do." Éponine groaned, her head resting on the table on top of their to do list. "Let's elope." She mumbled into the table. Enjolras laughed.

"We can't do that,"

"I know," Éponine sighed, picking up her head from the table. "We do need to make a schedule, though."

"Okay, let's do that." Enjolras agreed, ripping a piece of paper from his notebook. "Next week: what do we need to do?"

"I need to get a dress." Éponine began, holding up one finger.

"Got it," Enjolras said, nodding as he wrote it down. "You, Cosette, and Chetta?"

Éponine nodded. "Yes. And then you and I have to do the food tasting, cake tasting…pick out the place settings, send out the invites to people we haven't told."

"I need a tux," Enjolras added, as he wrote everything down.

"Yes, that too. And we need a location."

"I told my boss the chapel at the Sorbonne." Enjolras said, writing the location on another paper.

"Can we get that on such short notice?"

"Already did." Enjolras said, his eyes scanning the list. Éponine blinked in surprise.

"Wow, okay, good. The boys need tuxes, too, and Cosette and Chetta need bridesmaid dresses."

"Got it," Enjolras said, adding the items to the list. "Anything else?"

"Photographer."

"Grantaire said he would take photos."

"Grantaire will be wasted by the reception." Éponine countered.

"True. I'll get a photographer."

"Priest?"

"Provided by the chapel."

"Florist? DJ? Shower? Hair and makeup? Alcohol? Bachelorette and Bachelor parties?

"Holy shit, slow down." Enjolras said, his hand moving quickly to write down everything Éponine was saying. She had pulled up a wedding checklist on her phone, and was rapidly scrolling through it.

"Sorry, there are a lot of things we missed!"

"Do we need bachelor and bachelorette parties?" Enjolras asked. Éponine glanced at him over her phone.

"Of course."

"Why?"

"I don't know. Fun? Keeping up appearances?"

Enjolras said nothing, just wrote it on the list. He couldn't _wait_ to see what Combeferre, Courfeyrac and company would come up with for his bachelor party. Not.

"Honeymoon." Éponine said. Enjolras's brow furrowed.

"We need that?"

"Appearances."

"So I've got to take off work?"

"Don't be a killjoy. It's a vacation."

"Right." Enjolras sighed, before adding it to the list.

"I think that's everything." Éponine said slowly, scrolling back up the Internet list to check. "I think we got it all."

"Sure, this will be a piece of cake." Enjolras said sarcastically, eyeing the extremely long list of things to get done.

"Hey, we've got two weeks," Éponine said, with false cheer. Enjolras sighed.

"In hindsight, two weeks was not enough time."

"We'll be okay," Éponine said. "You were under a lot of pressure and said that date. We can do it. We have help from our friends."

"Speaking of our friends," Enjolras said, stretching his arms over his head and cracking his knuckles. "Musain?"

"I'll race you,"

* * *

**As always, thanks for reading! Let me know what you guys think, and I'll see you soon! xoxo Brittany **


	6. Chapter 5: Family

**Hey everyone! Thank you so much for the response to this story; it's been incredible! **

* * *

**Chapter 5: Family **

"Where do you want this box?" Combeferre shouted, his voice muffled by the massive wall of cardboard in front of his face. Éponine poked her head around the corner, and peered at the messy writing on the side of the box.

"Uh, my room, I think." She said, shrugging slightly as she stepped aside to let him squeeze past her. It was the day after the disastrous apartment hunt, and Éponine was moving into Enjolras's apartment. Thankfully, Combeferre, Courfeyrac, and Grantaire were all helping.

"You're running out of room in there," Grantaire warned, coming up behind Éponine. "I just put your lamps on the only free floor space."

"What is taking up so much room?" Éponine asked incredulously.

"Enjolras's shit."

Éponine growled under her breath. "Auguste Enjolras, where are you?"

"Ouch, full name." Combeferre joked, before setting his box down on the coffee table. "That's heavy, what is in there?"

"_My _books." Éponine said, before taking a deep breath. "Enjolras!"

"I'm coming, I'm coming, _ouch_, my fucking toe, ouch, fuck – what's wrong?" Enjolras questioned as he came into view. His hair was frizzed, his glasses askew, his face red from exertion as he put a box down.

"You still have your stuff in my room?"

"I crashed last night after our planning session, I didn't have time to get everything – " Enjolras started, but Éponine cut him off.

"I went home, packed everything I own in boxes, cleaned my apartment, and managed to get everything over here, and you couldn't move a couple bookshelves and a desk from one room to another?"

Enjolras said nothing, just heaved a large breath and stumbled past them toward Éponine's room, muttering about his stubbed toe the entire way.

"You know," Courfeyrac said humorously. "We _did _help you pack all your stuff up."

"I know," Éponine conceded, a wry smirk adorning her face. "But it's fun to mess with him, isn't it?"

The group laughed in agreement. Courfeyrac opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off by his ringing phone.

"It's your brother." He said, nodding to Éponine, before answering the call. "What's up?" He paused, listening for several seconds, before speaking again. "Enjolras's… come here, nobody is at your sister's. See you soon." He hung up, storing his phone before relaying the information. "Gav and Zelma are on their way here. Laura is going to drop them off."

Éponine nodded, her heart falling slightly. She hadn't even told Gavroche or Azelma that she was marrying Enjolras. In truth, she hadn't even _seen_ her siblings in the past few weeks; between school, work, and now planning a wedding, she hadn't had the time.

Gavroche, Azelma, and Éponine had all been placed in foster homes after their parent's arrest. Fortunately, they were allowed to go to the same home, with Laura and Mark Waters, a child-less couple that lived in the suburbs of Paris. Éponine had been seventeen by the time they were placed with the Waters, and had only lived with them for eight months before she went to college. Azelma had been eleven, while Gavroche was only eight at the time. Because of the timing, Éponine had not been as close to her foster parents as her siblings, and since she now lived in the city, did not have the relationship with them that she wished she had.

It had been seven years since their placement with the Waters. Azelma was getting ready to go off to college, while Gavroche was halfway through secondary school. Éponine tried to see her siblings as often as possible, but over the years, it had become difficult. She and Azelma did not have much of a relationship at all; the teenager had been young enough when they were taken from their parents that she grew up differently, and more privileged than Éponine, enough that the bond they had when they were younger was nearly gone. Azelma rarely made an effort to see her. Éponine had even offered her a place to stay (before her engagement to Enjolras) in the event that Azelma went to University in the city, but she had chosen a school in America instead.

Gavroche, on the other hand, was still close to Éponine. He was less concerned with the material things in life; Azelma clung to her cell phone and laptop, while Gavroche favored the outdoors. The moment Gavroche – at the tender age of ten – had met the Amis, he had been inseparable from their group. He had bonded with Courfeyrac in particular, though Éponine knew he idolized Enjolras; Gavroche had even started a social justice club at his school the previous year. The gesture had nearly moved Enjolras to tears. Because of this bond, Éponine was lucky enough to see her brother at least once a week.

"Have you told them?" Courfeyrac questioned, pulling Éponine out of her thoughts.

"Nope."

"Gav is going to be hilarious." Combeferre chuckled. Éponine's brow furrowed in confusion.

"Why?"

"He's going to be _thrilled_ because he loves Enjolras. But he feels like he has to be sort of…protective over you. So he's going to act all tough. I can't wait."

"Are you going to tell them the truth?" Courfeyrac asked quietly. Éponine shook her head.

"No. I know that I can trust them…but Azelma and I barely speak…Gav is young, and Laura and Mark…they wouldn't understand. It's just better to pretend it's real."

"Understood." Courfeyrac said, patting her on the shoulder.

"Could someone maybe, I don't know, help me with this bookcase?" Enjolras asked sarcastically. Grantaire rolled his eyes, before walking toward the hallway to meet him. The pair maneuvered the bookshelf carefully into the living room, on the wall opposite the door.

"The desk can fit right next to it, right?" Éponine prompted. Enjolras squinted at the space, before nodding slowly.

"I think so."

"Gee, imagine that." She remarked sarcastically, before nudging him in the arm. "I'm kidding. I'll help you move it."

"No need!" Courfeyrac said cheerfully; while Enjolras and Grantaire were arranging the bookshelf, he and Combeferre had retrieved the desk. "Where is this going?"

Éponine pointed to the space next to the bookshelf, and the pair pushed it into place.

"Okay, so now Éponine's last two boxes can go into her room, and her mattress on the frame. That's all that's left in the truck, right?" Grantaire asked, to which Courfeyrac nodded.

"Let's finish so we can have a beer." Éponine said, to which the boys grinned.

"I like the way you think." Grantaire said approvingly. He led the way down the stairs back to the moving truck, and within ten minutes, everything was moved into Éponine's new room.

"Phew." She sighed, scanning the various boxes. "I think I'll unpack later."

"Good idea." Enjolras said from the doorway. She jumped; she hadn't heard him approach. "And here's your beer." He handed her a Bud Light, with three lime wedges tucked down the neck of the bottle.

"Just how I like it," She murmured, before turning back to her fiancé. "Thank you,"

"You're welcome," He said, his eyes also scanning the room. "I'm sorry the room is so small. You could have taken mine, you know."

"You tell me this now," Éponine teased, taking a swig from her beer. "I'm kidding, Enj, this will be perfect."

"You're sure?"

"Positive."

"Gav and Zelma are here!" Gavroche called from the living room. Éponine jumped, before darting out of her new room.

"Grab Laura before she leaves!" She yelled.

"Gav, grab your stepmom!" Courfeyrac called down the stairs.

"Jesus, Courf, yell much?" Azelma complained as she entered the living room.

"Sorry," Courfeyrac said, holding his hands in mock surrender as he regarded the teenager.

"Hey, Zelma." Éponine said, moving forward to wrap her sister in a hug.

"Hey, Ep," She replied, her arms wrapped loosely around Éponine's back. "I can't stay long, I'm meeting a few friends at the cinema."

"That's fine," Éponine said, forcing a smile on her face. "I just have some news, and then you can do whatever." She had learned long ago that the only way to have _any_ time with her sister was to just let her do what she wanted; when Zelma didn't get her way, she turned ice cold.

Loud stomping sounded from the staircase, and Éponine looked over Azelma's head to see Gavroche, with Laura right behind him.

"Ep!" Gavroche said brightly, rushing across the room to wrap his sister in a hug. He was taller than her already; his growth spurt had rocketed him up to six feet tall, to Éponine's five foot, four inches.

"You barely caught me," Laura said, smiling as she hugged Éponine. Éponine laughed, though her stomach clenched; if she hadn't caught Laura, her step-mother would not have even come up to say hello.

"Well, I wanted to share some quick news with you guys." Éponine said, stepping back to stand next to Enjolras. He reached over and took her hand in his. "We're – "

"You guys are dating?" Gavroche asked, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "And why was I not consulted in this?"

Combeferre shot Éponine a look that said 'I told you so'. She smirked, before turning back to her siblings and Laura. "Well, yes, but there's something else, too."

"Azelma, put your phone away, Éponine is trying to share news with us." Laura chastised, before turning back to Éponine.

"Enjolras and I are getting married."

Silence followed the statement. Laura's smile was frozen on her face. Gavroche looked like he had been punched in the stomach. Even Azelma had stopped staring at her phone, and had a look of mild confusion on her face.

"Married?" Laura asked, before squealing in delight. "A wedding! This is so exciting! I wish you had told us – " she paused to send a stern look Éponine's way. "But this is fantastic news!"

Éponine was conflicted. On one hand, she loved Laura; the woman and her husband had been responsible for getting them out of an abusive household. On the other hand, she enjoyed a very…limited relationship with her foster parents. In truth, the Amis had been more of a family than Laura and Mark had ever been. At the same time…Laura may have just been genuinely happy for Éponine. Or she could have just wanted a wedding to attend. Éponine had no idea.

"It is fantastic," Éponine said, forcing a smile on her face, before gazing up at Enjolras. He smiled down at her as well, but he could see that the smile was not quite reaching her eyes.

"Congratulations," Azelma said, false happiness dripping from her every word. "When is the wedding?"

"May fifteenth," Éponine said, and Laura's shoulders sagged in relief.

"Oh, thank goodness you gave yourselves enough time to plan, that's a little over a year away, I'm so glad, I can't wait to prepare everything – "

"Mrs. Waters," Enjolras said, a slight hitch to his voice. Éponine looked up and saw that he was holding back laughter. "We're getting married on May fifteenth of _this_ year, not next year."

To stop herself from laughing, Éponine took a large gulp of her beer. Laura's smile had frozen on her face again.

"Two weeks from now?" She asked through gritted teeth. Éponine nodded.

"Yes, but we've got mostly everything set." Lie.

"You've got a dress?"

"Yes." Lie.

"Food?"

"Yes." Lie.

"A location?"

"Yes." Not a lie.

"Your sister hasn't had a fitting for a bridesmaid dress." Laura pointed out. Éponine tensed, before opening her mouth to speak.

"Actually," Enjolras cut in, reaching over to take Éponine's hand again. "We're having a very small wedding party. Only two groomsmen and two bridesmaids. It's four of our shared friends."

Éponine squeezed Enjolras's hand in thanks, before plowing ahead. "The wedding is at the Sorbonne, and the reception – "

"Are you pregnant?" Azelma questioned bluntly. Éponine's face colored, and she turned to her sister in agitation.

"No."

"Sorry, I just sort of figured. This is a pretty fast wedding."

"They've been dating over a year." Combeferre jumped in. Éponine and Enjolras's eyes snapped to him. "They've been engaged for awhile, anyway." Lie.

"You didn't have that ring last time we saw you," Azelma said slowly.

"We just picked it up."

Azelma laughed sarcastically; it was clear that she did not believe that Éponine was not pregnant. Éponine swallowed her annoyance, before turning back to Laura.

"I just wanted to share that with you, would you pass it along to Mark? Tell him I'll call him… and we'll send you an invitation in the mail, for the official RSVP." Mark was always working; he had an important finance job, and Éponine rarely saw or spoke to him.

"That's fine, Éponine, and congratulations. Anything you need, you know I'm here." Laura said, and Éponine noted the sincerity in her voice. As conflicted as her feelings for her stepmother were, she was grateful to have another person on her side.

"Thank you."

"I'll see you kids later," Laura said, before turning and leaving the apartment.

"Bye," Azelma said a second later, following her stepmother down the stairs to meet her friends. Éponine sighed, before turning to Gavroche.

"Gav, I'm sorry we didn't tell you – "

"I feel like I should hit you," Gavroche said conversationally, his attention focused solely on Enjolras. Combeferre snorted. "But I'm not going to, because I like you. But you should know, that you should have asked me."

"Asked you?" Éponine asked, an eyebrow raised. "Shouldn't he have asked Mark, if he was going to ask anyone?"

"Nah," Gavroche said, shrugging his shoulders. "I've got your best interests at heart."

The group laughed, and Éponine grinned, pulling her brother into a hug. "I know you do." She said into his shoulder. She could not see the glare he was giving Enjolras behind her back.

"I'm watching you." Gavroche mouthed to Enjolras, whose eyes widened in concern; Gavroche was taller than he was, and in all honestly, could probably kick his ass. In lieu of a response, Enjolras gave him a weak thumbs up.

"Well, now that that's settled." Grantaire said, swigging the rest of his beer. "Who wants pizza?"

* * *

**Well, that ended up longer than expected. I did not go into this chapter anticipating adding Azelma and foster parents into the mix (with a complex relationship to boot!), but that happened! As always, let me know what you guys think, and I'll see you soon! **

**ps…I take my beer with three limes in it. Don't ask. **


	7. Chapter 6: Dresses

**I am too excited for this one! **

* * *

Chapter Six: Dresses

The morning after she moved into Enjolras's apartment, Éponine was woken by a pounding on her door. She raised her head groggily, looking around in confusion, before remembering where she was. Stifling a yawn, she rose from her bed, tripping over her blanket, before ripping the door open.

"Cosette?" She was surprised by the presence of her friend; she had expected Enjolras.

"Do you realize," Cosette began, her voice grave. "Today is Wednesday. You are getting married in nine days, and you do not have a dress."

"Are you asking me, or are you telling me?" Éponine questioned, a bemused smirk on her face.

"I am telling you that we have to go and get a dress."

"I have work, Cosette, I have to go to the soup kitchen…" Éponine trailed off. In truth, she had not been doing much – other than wedding business – over the past few days. She had been neglecting the soup kitchen, calling in the past two days on "personal business". She hadn't had time to do any schoolwork, and had a paper due _on _her wedding day.

"I meant to talk to you about that," Enjolras interjected, appearing from around the corner. He was still wearing pajama pants, a cup of coffee in his hand. "I called your boss…I'm going to fill in for you today at the soup kitchen."

"Enjolras, you didn't have to –"

"I've been taking you away from your work for days," he pointed out. "I can do this. This is the only thing that you're doing alone; everything else is the two of us. Since I'm on suspension from my job," he paused to roll his eyes at himself. "I can help you."

"Thank you," Éponine said, a small smile appearing on her face.

"Most of the other stuff we have to do can be done at night anyway," Enjolras pointed out, pulling his phone out of his pocket. "Combeferre, Courfeyrac, and I are going to get our tuxes tonight. You and I have an appointment tomorrow night to taste food and cake. We're going to pick out the place settings at the same place…they do it as like a package thing. You're doing the dresses now. I'll call the photographer tonight. We can pick out flowers this Friday. We can either get the alcohol at the same place as the food, or we can find somewhere else. You're taking care of the bachelorette party?" Enjolras directed his question to Cosette, who nodded, a smirk on her face. "Great, and Courfeyrac is taking care of mine. Your hair and makeup…" Enjolras trailed off.

"We may be able to do some sort of deal with one of Musichetta's friends. She owns a salon." Cosette said promptly. Enjolras nodded, noting it in his phone.

"And we can write up the few invites we have to send out tonight. Just to my family, my boss and coworkers, and your stepparents." Enjolras finished, a satisfied smile on his face.

"Wow," Éponine said in slight awe. She couldn't believe that everything seemed to be running smoothly.

"Next week we should just be able to make sure everything is all set, go over everything, and get ready." Enjolras said, taking a sip of his coffee. "It's all coming together."

"Have you told your family yet?" Cosette questioned. Enjolras's face colored slightly.

"Ah, no."

"You think you should maybe do that?"

"I'm going to call them tonight."

An awkward silence followed. Éponine could only recall a handful of times over the past few years that Enjolras had mentioned his family. He clearly was not very close to them, if he was planning on _calling_ them to inform him of his marriage.

Not that Éponine's admittance to _her_ family had been any better.

"Well, take a shower," Cosette said cheerfully, breaking the tension in the room. "And we'll get going to the dress shop. We're meeting Chetta there in an hour."

* * *

"Do you two know what color you'd like to wear?" Éponine questioned. She, Musichetta, and Cosette were sitting in the waiting area of a Parisian bridal store.

"It's not up to us, 'Ponine." Cosette said smartly, to which Musichetta nodded.

"It's your wedding,"

"Technically, it's not, and you guys know that," Éponine said, rolling her eyes slightly at the girls.

"Still, you're the bride. What color do you want us to wear?" Cosette asked. Éponine shrugged her shoulders.

"I hadn't really thought about it." She admitted. "I'm not even sure what kind of dress I'd like to wear."

"Well, you're too short for a mermaid style," Musichetta said flatly. Éponine's face colored.

"Why do you say that?" She asked.

"You're what, five foot, four inches?" Musichetta asked, to which Éponine nodded. "Yeah, it would cut you off at a weird spot. Unless you're like…five-ten, it doesn't look good."

"Fine." Éponine huffed. She didn't even really know _what_ a mermaid style dress looked like, but she was offended nonetheless. "What would you suggest – "

"Hello, ladies!" A saleswoman rounded the corner, huge smile adorning her face. "I'm Jessica! And which one of you is my bride?"

"Me," Éponine said, raising her hand. She forced a smile onto her face, even though Jessica seemed to be grinning enough for both of them.

"Excellent! And when is the wedding date?"

Éponine heard Cosette stifle a laugh. "It's in nine days."

Jessica's smile faltered. "Nine…days?"

"She's not up the spout, if that's what you think." Musichetta said, frowning at the woman. Éponine suppressed a smile as Cosette smacked Musichetta's arm; despite her sometimes aggressive mannerisms, Chetta was the most protective friend Éponine had ever known.

"I wasn't…implying…I just…" Jessica stuttered, her face reddening as Musichetta continued to stare at her.

"It's fine, please excuse her," Éponine said, raising an eyebrow at Musichetta. "But anyway, yes, nine days, so we need to find something fast."

"Is nine days enough for alterations?" Cosette questioned. An uneasy look came over Jessica's face.

"If it's just the hem, maybe. If it's more…I can't guarantee anything."

"Understood." Éponine cut in. "Let's just see what we find."

"Do you know what style of dress you're looking for?" Jessica prompted.

"Not a mermaid style, apparently." Éponine said, an amused smile on her lips. Musichetta had the decency to look embarrassed.

"Cinderella type of dress? Large skirt?" Jessica prompted. Éponine shook her head slowly.

"Nothing too…grand." She said, trying to think back of wedding photos she had seen. "Something strapless, I think. Fitted…maybe beading on the top? Or some sort of detail, I don't know. And not too poofy."

"Sounds like you know what you want," Cosette remarked, to which Éponine shrugged.

"I think I know more of what I _don't_ want."

"Well, that is definitely a start!" Jessica said brightly. "Let's go find some dresses for you to try on!"

* * *

For two hours, Éponine tried on dresses. She tried a ball gown to appease Cosette (Éponine _hated_ it). She tried a mermaid style to annoy Musichetta (and, admittedly, she had been right; the dress was made for someone much taller). She tried a wisp-thin dress that was made for someone with zero curves; even Éponine's size five figure looked lumpy and unflattering in it.

She even tried on dresses she _thought_ she would like; Jessica had found a gown that exactly matched Éponine's description. Once she had it on her body, however, Éponine had felt zero rush, and zero appeal…the dress was just _there._

"Maybe we should take a break?" Éponine suggested, her frustration mounting. "Do you guys want to find bridesmaid dresses?"

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely, I need to sit down for a bit."

"We need color guidance." Cosette reminded her. Éponine shrugged.

"Enjolras's favorite color is red, so many a shade of that?"

"Great," Cosette affirmed, before skipping off to the racks to find Musichetta. Éponine sighed, before plopping herself onto a bench, and pulling her phone from her pocket.

_Can't find anything._ Her text to Enjolras was short and sweet.

A few seconds later, her phone beeped. _How many did you try?_

_Six. _

_That's not too many. Courf made me watch some stupid show once of women trying on dresses and this one tried on over a hundred. _

Éponine stifled a laugh at the thought of Enjolras watching _Say Yes to the Dress_, before typing back a response. _I don't have time to try on that many. _

_I know. I'm sorry. You could wear sweatpants, if you wanted. _

_That would keep up appearances very well. _ Éponine rolled her eyes sarcastically as she hit send.

_I'm sure you'd still look great. You'll find something. _ Éponine raised the phone closer to her face in confusion. He thought she'd look great in sweatpants?

"We've narrowed it down to two!" Cosette announced, breaking the moment Éponine was having with her phone screen. A faint blush appeared on her face as she looked up to see her two friends, each in a different dress.

Cosette was wearing a burgundy, flowing gown, with one shoulder. The material gathered just under her right hip, held in place with a small clip. Musichetta wore a shorter, strapless dress, also burgundy. It was more structured, stopping just above the knee.

"I like Cosette's better." Musichetta practically whined.

"I do, too." Cosette said, beaming as she twirled in a circle. "But, it's up to you." She said quickly. Éponine shook her head.

"First of all, you two are the ones who have to wear them. Anyway, it doesn't matter, I love it."

"You do?"

"Absolutely."

"What do you think, Chetta?" Cosette asked, twirling again. "Is this the dress?"

"That is definitely the dress."

"Luckily you two are tall enough." Éponine said, trying to disguise the slight envy in her voice. Cosette and Musichetta both stood at five foot, seven inches, and would not need their dresses to be altered.

"We're going to find you something," Cosette said, a note of determination in her voice. "Don't worry."

"We might have to check somewhere else," Musichetta remarked, to which Éponine nodded.

"You might be right."

"Hold on one second, ladies." Jessica said loudly. She practically ran into the room, a covered dress slung over her shoulder. "I had forgotten… and this… and _you_… this might be _perfect._"

"What is – "

"A couple months ago, a woman came in. Needed a wedding dress, picked this one, had it altered, and was due to pick it up. In the time it took to alter the dress, she found a _different_ dress that she wanted instead, and left this one here. We billed her, called her, but she never showed up to claim it. How tall are you?"

"Five-four," Éponine answered, her heart hammering.

"That's how tall she was!" Jessica said in awe, pulling the dress from her shoulder and hanging it on a rack in front of the girls. The room had gone eerily silent. "This is…this is weird…and you may not even _like _this dress, but it's worth a try."

"Absolutely." Cosette said quietly, her eyes glued to the cover over the dress. Jessica pulled the cover up, shaking the white dress free.

Éponine knew that this was her dress the second she laid eyes on it. The bodice was intricately beaded and embellished, from the hip to the sweetheart neckline. The material gathered slightly at the hips, before descending straight down, the small creases and pleats folding elegantly. In the back, the bodice laced up, corset-style, with a white ribbon. The back gathered at the small of the back, the material flowing straight down before ending in a short train.

Éponine didn't believe much in fate, but as she stepped into the gown, and allowed Jessica to lace it in the back, something clicked into place. Unwitting tears sprung to her eyes as she gazed at herself in the mirror; she felt _beautiful_. The wedding would be a sham, this was true, but Éponine felt, and _looked_ like a bride.

"Oh my lord." Cosette breathed, tears springing to her own eyes as Éponine stepped out of the dressing room. "That is…oh my goodness, perfect."

"It's like it was made for you," Musichetta said, and Éponine couldn't help but agree; the material just brushed the floor, the train gracefully trailing after her steps.

"Is this your dress?" Jessica asked, practically bouncing with anticipation. Éponine nodded, a large smile splitting onto her face.

"This is it."

* * *

An hour later, Éponine, Cosette, and Musichetta trudged up the stairs to Enjolras – and Éponine's – apartment, dresses in tow. Enjolras opened the door to find his fiancée, beaming.

"I take it you found one."

"I did." She confirmed.

"Can I see it?"

Musichetta gasped. "Fuck off, Enjolras, you can't see the dress before the wedding."

"Yeah, Enjolras, fuck off." Grantaire echoed from the kitchen. Éponine stifled a laugh at the look on his face, before stepping into the apartment.

"Can _I_ see it?" Courfeyrac asked, bouncing on his toes in excitement.

"Nope." Éponine said, smirking as Coufeyrac's face fell. "You can all wait nine days."

"You're kidding." Combeferre said, an eyebrow raised. Éponine's expression did not change. "She's not kidding."

"Can I see _your_ dress?" Marius asked Cosette, who shook her head.

"Nope. What Éponine said. You can wait nine days."

"In any case," Enjolras said loudly, cutting off the chatter. "We – " He indicated Combeferre and Courfeyrac. "- have to go and get tuxes. I don't know what the rest of you will be wearing, but if you need a tux, you better come with us."

Grantaire stood up, stretching his arms over his head. "Is everyone else meeting us there?"

"Yes," Enjolras said. "They're already there. I made casserole," he said, his attention directed to Éponine. "If you guys want to have that for dinner. I'll be back later, and then you and I can call the photographer, and write the invites."

"Sounds good," Éponine said, a soft smile on her face. He had really thought of everything.

"Bye," Enjolras said, before herding Combeferre, Courfeyrac, Marius, and Grantaire out the door.

"You guys hungry?" Éponine asked, her back already to Cosette and Musichetta as she headed toward the kitchen. Had she been facing her friends, she would have seen the secret, knowing look that passed between them; Enjolras and Éponine were _very_ much on their way to love.

* * *

**As always, thank you for reading and reviewing! xoxo Brittany **


	8. Chapter 7: Parents

**Things I already know but must reiterate: you guys are AMAZING.**

**Chapter 7: Parents**

* * *

Later that evening, Enjolras returned home in much the same fashion as Éponine had: laden with a heavy garment bag. His – and the other boy's – quest for clothing had been much simpler, however; finding a tux was just a matter of choosing the cut, and color, and having it sized properly.

As he walked through the door, he looked around, expecting to find Cosette and Musichetta still lounging in the apartment. Instead, he found Éponine, alone, sitting on the couch, a cup of coffee in her hand. At the sound of the door, she looked up.

"Hey, you got your tux?"

Enjolras nodded, tilting his head to indicate the bag slung over his shoulder. "Yep. Probably much easier than you with your dress."

Éponine smirked. "I'm sure. Did you get black or white?"

"Guess you'll have to wait nine days to find out." Enjolras teased. Éponine rolled her eyes.

"Funny," She remarked, before inclining her head toward the kitchen. "There's some casserole left for your dinner."

"Great, I'm starving," Enjolras said, moving fully into the living room. He walked past Éponine to the hallway, and into his room, to store his tux in his closet. He tugged his wallet from his pocket, tossing it on his bed, before exiting his room to reenter the main area of the apartment. He glanced briefly at Éponine, who was staring intently at a book, before walking into the kitchen to heat up his dinner.

"Whatcha reading?" Enjolras asked, as he sat on the couch next to Éponine, a plate of steaming casserole in his hand. She tilted the book toward him.

"Candide," She replied, with a slight shrug of her shoulders. "Never read it at Uni."

"Do you like it so far?" Enjolras asked eagerly.

"I'm on page twelve," Éponine laughed. "I hope you don't mind, I borrowed it from your bookshelf."

"Of course not," Enjolras said quickly; sharing books with others was one of his _favorite_ things. "I'm looking forward to seeing what you think of it. Voltaire is an incredible writer."

"So far, I agree with you," Éponine said, a small smile on her face; she could hear the enthusiasm in Enjolras's voice. "This poor kid, though. And I'm not sure about this Pangloss guy."

Enjolras laughed. "That is a smart insight,"

"We've got some phone calls to make, don't we?" Éponine questioned, leaning forward to put her book on the coffee table. Enjolras sighed.

"I guess,"

"I can call," Éponine offered. "You're eating, anyway."

"It's fine, I can – "

"What's the number?" Éponine prompted, her phone already in her hand. Enjolras sighed, before digging his own phone out of his pocket. He scrolled through his notes to the "wedding" list he had made. He recited the number, which Éponine dialed into her phone.

"Hello?" Éponine said pleasantly. "Hi, yes, this is Éponine Thenardier, I believe you spoke briefly with my fiancé, Auguste Enjolras?" She paused to listen. "Yes, next Friday. One second." Éponine covered the phone with her hand, and addressed Enjolras. "Do we want the photographer at the reception, too?"

He shrugged. "Maybe for the beginning? Opening dances, and all that? Not more than an hour into it, I wouldn't think."

"Sir?" Éponine said, removing her hand from the speaker of the phone. "I think before the ceremony, the ceremony itself, and then an hour of the reception will do it. About three hours total." She listened for another few moments, before rolling her eyes. "I think that price is a little steep," She said, a condescending tone in her voice. "We have a friend who is a photographer that charges about half that,"

She glanced at Enjolras, who mouthed 'we do?'. Éponine waved a hand at him. "Yes, we can meet in the middle on the price, that's fine." She said triumphantly. We will expect you at the Chapel at the Sorbonne around two in the afternoon. Ceremony begins at three, and the reception at four." Éponine paused again, before reciting her phone number for a contact, thanking the man, and hanging up.

"Driving a hard bargain, huh?" Enjolras said, eyebrow raised in amusement.

"I had to, the guy was out of his mind."

"And who is the friend we have that's a photographer?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," Éponine laughed. "But it worked, didn't it?"

"It did," Enjolras affirmed, smiling to himself as he ate his last bite of casserole.

"So…I can write the couple invitations that we have to send out, if you want to call your parents?" Éponine suggested, keeping her eyes focused on her phone; she knew Enjolras was not looking forward to telling his family about their upcoming wedding. The least she could do was give him some privacy.

Enjolras took a deep breath. "Yeah, let me forward you the list of contacts for the invitations." He said unlocking his phone to re-open his wedding checklist. "The blank invites are on the desk."

Éponine nodded, before standing and walking to the desk. She grabbed the stack of blank invitations, her phone buzzing in her hand as she did so; Enjolras's list had come through to her almost immediately.

"Thanks," she said, indicating her phone. "I'm going to go in my room to write these… good luck with your call."

Enjolras sighed. "Thank you," He mumbled, his phone already to his ear. Éponine picked up on the barely perceptible shake of his hand. She bit her lip; she couldn't recall _ever_ seeing Enjolras nervous. But then again, he had never had to tell his family that he was getting married in nine days.

"Mom? Hi, it's me." Enjolras's greeting was the last thing Éponine heard before she closed the door to her room.

* * *

For nearly an hour, Éponine listened to the muffled sounds of Enjolras yelling. He had first risen his voice five minutes after the phone call began; Éponine assumed that the pleasantries had been exchanged, and that he had gotten to the purpose of the call.

Twenty minutes in, Éponine finished writing the invitations. She had, after all, only needed to write four: one for Laura, Mark, Azelma, and Gavroche, one for Enjolras's parents, and one each for Enjolras's boss and co-worker, who were only invited for purposes of formality. And for making sure their wedding was real, of course.

Enjolras's shouting continued for the next forty minutes, while Éponine sat in her room, bored out of her mind. She regretted leaving her book on the coffee table; at least she would have had _something_ to do. She threw around the idea of calling Combeferre, and inquiring about Enjolras's relationship with his parents, but that seemed like a breach of trust. Instead, Éponine scrolled through the news on her phone for a few minutes, before finally giving up and playing Solitaire. On her fourteenth game, the living room finally went silent.

Éponine stood from her bed, putting her ear against the door to listen. A muffled "son of a bitch" echoed down the hall, clueing her into the fact that Enjolras was definitely off the phone with his parents. She pushed the door open cautiously, and padded down the hallway toward the living room.

"Enj?"

"You can come in," Enjolras said, his voice strangely muffled. Éponine moved into the living room, and could immediately see why: Enjolras's head was buried in his hands.

"You alright?" Éponine asked, to which Enjolras gave an annoyed groan. He picked his head up from his hands, before running them through his hair.

"I guess."

"You don't sound alright,"

Another sigh, and Enjolras turned to face her. "I have a…complicated…relationship with my parents. And this goes against everything."

"Tell me," Éponine said, sitting on the couch and focusing her attention on Enjolras. He took a deep breath.

"You really want to know?"

"They're going to be my in-laws," Éponine reminded him. "And anyway, I want to know."

"Okay," Enjolras said, taking a deep breath. "I'm not sure if you know about this or not, but my father owns a pretty big law firm, based out of the suburbs of Paris. He's a partner, along with my Uncle Benjen. My mother…she's the embodiment of the lawyer's wife stereotype. She stays home most days, and goes to the country club to gossip with other lawyer's wives.

I won't pretend like it wasn't a decent childhood, and I don't want you to think I'm trying to make my privileged live sound bad, but I hardly saw my parents. We had a nanny for most of my life, and I think I thought she was my mother for awhile. My parents sent me to private school, and I probably would have grown up thinking I was better than everyone, but one day, our nanny, Marisa, was sick with the flu, so my mother had to leave the Club to come and get me from the bus stop. Shockingly, she forgot, so I was sitting there on my own for a little while – "

"How old were you?" Éponine interrupted.

"Sorry, I was seven," Enjolras said, before plowing ahead. "I had been sitting there for about ten minutes before this guy came and sat next to me. He was wearing really dirty clothes, carrying a backpack, and he _stank_. I became very nervous; surely, this had to be one of those criminals that my father had warned me about. Instead, the guy asked me what my name was. It took me a few minutes to answer him, but when I did, he asked me about my day, my schooling, my favorite color…just conversation. And I got less afraid, and realized I was enjoying myself, talking to this homeless man on this bench. That maybe all the guy wanted was to talk, and to have someone – even a six year old kid – listen, and talk back.

About twenty minutes later, my mother finally arrived, and she had my father with her. He ran to the bench and marched me away from the man, and he called the police. Said a homeless man had been harassing his son, no matter how many times I tried to tell him that he was just talking, and that he was okay. He called the cops, and they arrested that man, and I never found out what happened to him."

Enjolras took a deep breath, his eyes flicking up to meet Éponine's. "That was really the start of my wanting to pursue social justice. All those speeches at University, all the protests…that was all for that man."

"What happened after that, with your parents?"

"My father told me to never speak to strangers like that again. And I know that's what parents are supposed to do…tell their kids to stay away from people they don't know. But it wasn't for my safety; it was because my father thought this man was _below_ him. And even at seven, I could tell that was the reason. I really stopped…liking my father after that. After I realized that a homeless man on a bench had paid me more attention than my dad ever did."

Éponine felt a chill flash through her at those words; how often had she thought that people outside of her family had been better to her than her own parents? And to think, all that time, that Enjolras's reputation as a fighter for social justice began because of the same thinking? Maybe they had more in common than she had thought. She swallowed the lump in her throat; she did not need to cry in front of him.

"Anyway, I brought up the law firm because that's always been the big thing with my father. I have to inherit the firm from him when he's ready to retire. When I changed majors… I didn't tell them for a long time that I was a political science major instead of pre-law. Of course, there's always the opportunity to go to law school, but…" Enjolras trailed off.

"You don't want to." Éponine finished. Enjolras shrugged noncommittally.

"Truthfully, the biggest reason I don't want to is because my father wants me to so badly. But, at the same time, I don't think that could ever be me. Unless I was a lawyer strictly for the underrepresented…"

"I can see you doing that," Éponine remarked. "You're a powerful speaker."

"Thank you," Enjolras said, his ears turning pink at her compliment. "It is something I enjoy. But I thought getting involved with the government would help me end some corruption. Instead, I'm in the middle of it."

Éponine knew better than to push him on what sort of corruption he had gotten in trouble for; she knew he was supposed to be deported, and that was enough. She didn't need to be entangled in it any more than she already was.

"How did they react to the wedding?"

"They assume you're pregnant." Enjolras sighed. "I told them you aren't, but lets be honest, that's what it looks like."

"It does." Éponine said. "They probably want you to have some big, fancy wedding."

"My parents threw a bunch of their friend's daughters at me all through high school, and on breaks from college. They wanted me to marry the heiress to some fortune of her own, so that we would dominate the upper class."

"So, naturally, they think you're marrying scum."

"No, that's not what I – "

"I'm not saying _you_ think that, Enjolras, but if your father is a lawyer, he's probably heard my last name tossed around." Éponine said, a sick feeling creeping into her stomach.

"I don't really care what he thinks of you, Éponine, he's not the one marrying you. I happen to think you're a great person. You're smart, and you're a loyal friend; I mean you're _marrying_ me, for Christ's sake, and I know this isn't ideal, but it's happening, and I'm glad it's with you."

"But, they're your parents." Éponine said, choosing to ignore the stream of compliments. She would over-analyze those later. "Don't you at least care a _little_ about what they think?"

"I stopped caring about that when I was seven, Éponine. I speak to them once a month, at most, and it's small talk until someone fakes plans to get off the phone. We don't have a bad relationship, we have _no _relationship. I was only ever a…possession. Being groomed to continue the family tradition. Once they realized I wasn't going to, I was expendable."

Éponine felt her heart breaking for the man in front of her. Her own parents had always been forthright in their hatred of their children; it was outright neglect. Enjolras's parents, however, had been nonchalantly, carelessly distasteful of their son; it was as if they were content to forget him, when it was convenient. When she was young, she had envied the rich, but now, she realized that hardship wore many faces, and money had nothing to do with it.

"I'm sorry that happened to you," Éponine said. "Families can suck."

"They can." Enjolras agreed, a soft smile on his face. "But the Amis, you, Cosette, Musichetta…I'm glad we all made our own ragtag family."

"You and me, too." Éponine reminded him. "Once we're married, that is." She felt a strong urge to hug him.

"You're right." Enjolras said, standing from his spot on the couch. "Thanks for listening to me,"

"Of course," Éponine said quickly, standing as well. She could feel a palpable awkwardness creeping into the room.

"I'm going to head to bed," Enjolras said, to which Éponine nodded.

"Me too." They walked away from the couch, Enjolras reaching over to turn off the light in the living room. Once down the hallway, Enjolras paused outside his room.

"Thanks again," He said quietly. His arms twitched; should he hug her? "Goodnight,"

"Night," Éponine said, turning quickly down the hall to reach her own door. Once inside, she flopped onto her bed, burying her face in the pillows, finally allowing herself to shed a few tears for the little boy who, like her, stopped believing in his parents way too young.

* * *

**Well that was heavy. Extra points if anyone caught the Game of Thrones reference in there. I'll be back soon with an update, and thank you all so much for your wonderful reviews and responses! They really keep me going! xoxo Brittany **


	9. Chapter 8: Food and Bosses

**Hey everyone! **

**Extra points to Soldier of Democracy for getting my Benjen Stark Game of Thrones reference last chapter; I think you were the only one! Thank you all for your wonderful reviews! **

* * *

**Chapter 8: Food &amp; Bosses **

After the disastrous phone call with his parents, Enjolras and Éponine shared a common – albeit awkward – understanding; they had both mentally decided not to discuss parents, foster or biological. In any case, there was too much to be done for the wedding to focus on anything else.

Thursday evening – eight days before the wedding – brought a packed schedule. After promising herself that she would finish her schoolwork later, Éponine and Enjolras set off for the catering company.

"You said we can get the open bar here too?" Éponine questioned as they pulled up to the building. Enjolras nodded.

"This is food, place settings, drinks, alcoholic drinks, and wait staff."

"This is going to be expensive." Éponine remarked, to which Enjolras shrugged.

"We don't have a huge number of guests, either. It's less than fifty people, which is going to make it a lot cheaper."

"You're right. And do we need wait staff?"

"We might want them," Enjolras said, shrugging again. "But then again, we could do the buffet option. Then we would only need to have everyone throw their plates away."

"That might be what we have to do."

"Let's see when we get in there," Enjolras suggested, before putting the car in park. Éponine nodded in agreement, and the pair exited the vehicle. Enjolras jogged to reach the door before Éponine, and held it open for her to enter. She smiled at him, a faint blush tingeing her cheeks at his chivalry; it wasn't something she was used to.

"And you must be Mr. and Mrs. Enjolras," A man said cheerfully, prompting Éponine out of her thoughts. "Well, soon to be," He corrected himself, before holding a hand out to shake. "I'm Clint, and I'll be helping you out today,"

"Nice to meet you," Éponine said, shaking his hand before moving aside to let Enjolras in. He shook the man's hand as well, before wrapping his arm around Éponine's waist.

"You're here for food, and place settings, correct?"

"The open bar is a possibility as well," Enjolras said, and Clint clapped his hands together, a large smile on his face.

"Fantastic, let's get you started with tasting some meals."

* * *

In the end, Éponine and Enjolras tried more than ten different dishes, before finally settling on the buffet option, which would include chicken, pasta, shrimp, and various sides. The non-alcoholic drinks were included in the price – which was reasonable, given their smaller wedding size.

The place settings were included in the price for the buffet, and were available in a myriad of colors. As soon as he saw the red place setting, Enjolras glanced at Éponine, who sighed, before telling Clint their choice.

"Now this," Clint said, a smirk on his face. "Is the best part. I hope you're not too full from tasting the meals." Enjolras and Éponine both shook their heads. "It's time to pick the cake!"

"Oh boy," Éponine smirked, her mouth already watering at the prospect. "What are our options?"

"We have chocolate, vanilla, red velvet, carrot, or any combination of those."

"I think we'll need to try them all, what do you think?" Enjolras said, mocking deep thought. Éponine giggled, and nodded in agreement. The pair followed Clint to the table, where the samples of each cake flavor were laid out.

"Chocolate first," Clint said, indicating the first option. Éponine and Enjolras each took a bite.

"Little rich for me," Enjolras remarked, chewing slowly. "I don't think I could eat a whole piece."

"I agree, is this the vanilla?" Éponine already had her empty plate on the table, and was pointing at the next option. Clint laughed at her enthusiasm.

"Yes, go for it."

"Better," Enjolras said approvingly. "Definitely better than the chocolate."

"Agreed."

"Red velvet is next,"

"My favorite." Éponine said, before snatching the small plate and devouring the sample. Enjolras laughed, before popping his sliver in his mouth.

"That was good," He said, to which Éponine nodded vigorously. "I actually don't like carrot cake,"

"Me either!" Éponine exclaimed, slapping him lightly on the arm. "How weird!"

"Red velvet and vanilla, then?" Clint asked. Éponine smirked.

"We might have to try the red velvet again, just to be sure."

Clint laughed, before pulling two samples off an adjoining table. "These are all yours."

Éponine was about to devour her slice, until an idea struck her. "Enjolras," she said, and he turned toward her, his piece still in his hand.

"Yes?"

"Practice." Éponine said simply, before shoving her piece of cake into his mouth. He spluttered in surprise, the cake nearly choking him, before he got over his shock and started to chew. Éponine plucked the piece from his hand and popped it into her own mouth, laughing quietly at the look on his face.

"I will get you back for that," Enjolras warned, though Éponine could tell he was fighting a grin.

"I bet you will,"

"Well, isn't this precious." A new voice joined the group, and Éponine, Enjolras, and Clint all turned around.

"Sebastian! How wonderful to see you again. Looking for catering for the office?" Clint asked pleasantly. Éponine's eyes darted from the man, to Enjolras, and down to his clenched fist. She made her deduction quickly: he was Enjolras's boss. She ran a hand down his arm, pressing the inside of his wrist to loosen his fingers. He looked down at her, and she gave him an encouraging smile, before gently slipping her hand into his.

"I was actually just walking by and noticed Mr. Enjolras's car, and I hoped I could catch him and his lovely fiancée before they left."

"You know these two?" Clint questioned, oblivious of the crackling tension in the air.

"Auguste works for me,"

"Oh, how wonderful!" Clint said joyfully. "Well they've just picked out a red velvet and vanilla cake for their wedding next week,"

"Bit late for the catering, isn't it Ms. Thenardier?" Sebastian asked, the malicious undertones clear in his voice. Éponine forced a soft smile onto her face.

"Well, we had one caterer, and then they went right out of business! The recession took them down, we suppose. So we were scrambling to find someone, and we were recommended this place by one of our friends, and Clint has been so helpful, and understanding of our rush." She kept the smile plastered on her face the whole time.

"That sure is lucky," Sebastian remarked. "Very _convenient_ for you two, to find something so last minute."

Enjolras's grip on Éponine's hand tightened, and she placed her other hand on his chest, her gaze rising to meet his eyes. "We're just so excited to be getting married next week, sir, we wouldn't care if it was at the courthouse with no food or catering or guests at all. As long as we've got each other, we're happy."

A smirk played at the corners of Enjolras's lips, and he leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead. "She's right." He said simply, looking back at Sebastian. "It really wouldn't matter. It's just enough that we're together."

"A young couple in such deep love, this is why I love my job!" Clint said, noticeable tears in his eyes as he regarded Éponine and Enjolras. "I'm going to do your cake for free, it's the least you two deserve!"

As Enjolras expressed their thanks, Éponine's eyes wandered to Sebastian, whose jaw was clenched tightly in irritation. She smirked, before turning back to Enjolras.

"We still have to figure out the open bar situation, darling."

"Of course, I'm sorry Sebastian, we really have to get back to our planning. It was wonderful to see you, though."

"Likewise, Auguste." Sebastian said, before directing his attention to Éponine. "And nice to meet you as well, Ms. Thenardier. I'll be seeing you next week at your wedding."

"Looking forward to it." Éponine said, sending a small smile his way before turning back to her fiancé.

"The open bar will be for about four hours, is that long enough for your reception?" Clint asked, as Sebastian turned away from the trio and headed back outside. Enjolras's shoulders visibly relaxed, and he gave Éponine's hand another squeeze. He did not, however, pull his hand from hers, and throughout the negotiations for the price and length of the bar, he held it.

* * *

At the end of the evening, the food, place settings, and bar were less expensive than they had anticipated, and Enjolras and Éponine decided to treat themselves to a light dinner before heading back to their apartment.

"So, your boss." Éponine remarked. Enjolras sighed deeply.

"Sorry about him. You were great, though."

"Thank you," Éponine said, before frowning. "Do you think he believed us? Or was it too over the top?"

Enjolras laughed. "We're eight days away from being married. We're young. We're _supposed_ to be over the top."

"I guess you're right." Éponine shrugged. "I just don't want to fuck this up for us."

"You won't," Enjolras assured her, reaching across the table to place his hand over hers. "We were totally blindsided by him today, and you were perfect."

Éponine opened her mouth to reply, but was cut off by their waiter bringing their pizza to the table. For a few moments, the pair was silent as they enjoyed their dinner.

"Open bar was cheaper than we thought it would be," Éponine said between bites.

"Grantaire will be pleased."

"_Everyone_ will be pleased."

"Touché." Enjolras agreed. "We probably shouldn't be hammered. We might make a comment about the validity of our marriage."

"We're going to have to watch everyone." Éponine warned. "Leave it to Courf to spoil it when he has too much to drink."

"I'm not sure how long Sebastian and Henri will stay," Enjolras admitted. "They may stay the whole time just to wait and see if someone slips up."

"True," Éponine mused. "Do you think we threw Sebastian off a bit today?"

"We might have," Enjolras said, shrugging his shoulders. "But he really, _really_ wants me out of the country."

"I know."

"Just don't you get too drunk at the reception," Enjolras teased. "Start yelling about how much you hate me, and how you're getting married to someone who annoys the shit out of you."

"I wouldn't say that, drunk or sober." Éponine said firmly. The smile dropped off of Enjolras's face momentarily, before reappearing.

"I know you wouldn't."

* * *

An hour later, Éponine and Enjolras returned to their apartment, exhausted from the day's activities. Éponine picked _Candide_ off the table, before turning to face Enjolras.

"I'm going to read a bit, and then head to bed."

"I'm going to do the same," Enjolras said, stretching his hands over his head. "You're going to work same time tomorrow?"

"Yes,"

"Was the coffee good this morning?" Enjolras asked anxiously. "I'll make it the same tomorrow, if you want."

"It was excellent, Enjolras, but you don't have to make it just for me,"

"I want to," Enjolras said, before shrugging sheepishly. "I had another cup from the pot I made for you, too."

"And that made how many cups this morning?"

"Uh…six."

"Better than you in college." Éponine remarked, rolling her eyes. "What was that, like fourteen a day?"

"More or less."

Éponine laughed. "What do we have to do tomorrow?"

"Just the flowers!" Enjolras said brightly, before frowning. "And then Saturday is our bachelor and bachelorette parties."

"Don't sound too excited," Éponine teased.

"I don't want to go."

"Your friends are excited. You'll have fun."

"If I see one stripper, I'm leaving." Enjolras said firmly, to which Éponine laughed.

"You are the strangest man I've ever met."

"I'm going to take that as a compliment."

"Take it as you will," Éponine smirked. "Goodnight, Enjolras."

"Goodnight," Enjolras paused, before taking a small step forward. "And…thank you, for everything."

Éponine smiled in response, before turning down the hallway, her book clutched tightly to her chest. She sunk onto her bed, her mouth opening to let out a gust of air. It had only been a few nights, and she was _way_ too used to saying goodnight to Enjolras.

"It's only for a year." She muttered to herself, her hands shaking slightly as she opened her book. "God dammit, Éponine, get a grip, you're marrying the man for a year, and then you're getting divorced. Get over it."

She pushed down the voice in her head – the one that told the truth of her growing feelings for Enjolras – and turned to her book. After losing herself in Voltaire's world of optimism, she finally drifted off to sleep.

* * *

**Let me know what you guys think! Next chapter is the bachelor/bachelorette parties! If you have anything you want to see at those, let me know! xoxo Brittany **


	10. Chapter 9: Parties

**This is a long chapter, so I'm going to keep this note short: I used some of your ideas in this chapter, so THANK YOU for those! And THANK YOU for all the support, and now, onto the chapter! **

* * *

Chapter 9: Parties

As Enjolras opened his eyes on Saturday, he was met with the bright sun streaming through his window. He stretched his arms above his head, allowing a small smile to grace his lips; it was going to be a beautiful day. Except…Enjolras let his arms fall to the mattress as a cold dread settled into his stomach; today was his _bachelor party._

"Fuck." He said quietly. He briefly considered calling Courfeyrac and cancelling the party, feigning 'sickness', but he remembered Éponine's words; his friends were excited to throw him this party. He supposed he should go…after all, they were keeping his big secret.

With an exaggerated sigh, he crawled out of bed, throwing a t-shirt over his head and padding down the hall. He was surprised to find Éponine already sitting in the kitchen, a steaming mug of coffee in front of her.

"Morning," Enjolras said, smiling toward her, before reaching for the coffee pot. She grunted in response, to which he laughed quietly; Éponine had not yet had enough coffee to be friendly.

Enjolras sat down across from her at the table, coffee in his hands. He blew the steam off the top of his mug, his eyes focusing on Éponine. Her hair was loosely piled on top of her head, her face bare of makeup. Enjolras wondered vaguely how she looked so nice after having just woken up.

"Ready for your party?" Éponine questioned, her voice heavy with sleep. Enjolras shrugged as he took his first sip of coffee.

"Nope." He said, resting the mug back on the table. "You?"

"Absolutely not."

Enjolras opened his mouth to respond, before a knock at the door interrupted him. He stood, walking across the kitchen to look through the peephole. He stifled a laugh, before turning back to the kitchen.

"Why are Cosette and Musichetta here already?

"Fucking shit." Éponine cursed, her hands flying up to cover her face. "I forgot about the pre-party,"

"Pre-party?"

"Cosette wanted to go to the spa, get manicures and pedicures and all that shit. Fuck, can you entertain them while I get ready quick?"

Enjolras opened his mouth to respond, but Éponine was already down the hall to the bathroom. He sighed, briefly considered how much Éponine swore in the morning, before tugging the door open. "Ladies," he greeted.

"Auguste, darling, happy bachelor party day." Musichetta said gravely. "Will you be as much of a wet blanket today as you are every day?"

Enjolras gave her a blank look of annoyance, before turning to Cosette. "You can come in." He said, before turning back to Musichetta. "You can go home if you want to."

"You know I'm kidding, Enjolras, annoying you is a hobby of mine." Musichetta said affectionately, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek before moving into the living room. Ever since she had started dating Joly, Musichetta and Enjolras had enjoyed a relationship full of bantering and teasing. To any outsider, it would appear that they hated each other, but they were actually very close friends.

"Is Éponine ready?" Cosette asked. Enjolras shook his head.

"Nope. She asked me to entertain you while she got ready."

"Oh, joy." Musichetta said, flopping down onto the couch. "Got any coffee?"

"Get it yourself," Enjolras said, to which Musichetta huffed, before getting up again to walk to the kitchen. Cosette sat down in her place, a soft smile on her face.

"Nothing crazy is going to happen tonight," she assured him. "We won't let Éponine get too wild."

"She can do whatever she wants," Enjolras sighed, raising his mug to his lips. "I'm the one who doesn't want a stripper, or anything like that."

"Don't be mad if the boys do something that you might not be comfortable with," Cosette began nervously. "They're just excited to have an excuse to celebrate."

"What do you know that I don't know?" Enjolras asked suspiciously. Cosette's face colored.

"Uh…nothing…"

"Cosette, is there going to be a stripper there?"

"Chill out, Enj, when's the last time you had tits in your face?" Musichetta asked, sitting next to Cosette, a mug of coffee in her hands. She pulled a small flask from her jacket pocket, and poured its contents into her coffee.

"Okay, first of all, I don't want a stranger's body in my face, on my lap, or near me." Enjolras said, holding up one finger. "Second of all, are you drinking already? It is nine in the morning."

"First of all," Musichetta mocked, sticking her tongue out at Enjolras. "Maybe the stripper is for the other boy's enjoyment more than yours. They know you're not into that, but some of them are. Second of all, this is the start of a bachelorette party, _of course_ I am drinking already."

"There's going to be a stripper at the bachelor party?" Éponine questioned as she walked into the living room. She had thrown on jeans and a simple top, a purse over one shoulder, and an overnight bag over the other shoulder.

"Of course," Musichetta said, shrugging her shoulders. "It was Courf's idea."

"Courf is gay."

"To quote him, 'just because I don't want to stick my dick in it, doesn't mean I can't appreciate it'."

"Good lord," Enjolras said, burying his face in his palms. Musichetta patted him on the shoulder.

"In all seriousness, Enj, you don't have to stay the whole time. Just go have a drink, toast the end of bachelorhood – sort of – and leave. I already told Joly that you probably wouldn't be there the entire time. They're fine with it. They just want you to have a good time."

"Thanks, Chetta." Enjolras said, his face still hidden in his hands. "I'll probably do that,"

"Well, on that note, we should probably get going," Cosette said, glancing at her watch as she stood. "Our appointment at the salon is in a half-hour."

"We'll meet you at the car," Musichetta said to Éponine, before turning to Enjolras. "Try to have some fun tonight!"

"You guys too," Enjolras said. "See you all later," Musichetta and Cosette both waved, before leaving the apartment, shutting the door behind them.

"Well," Éponine said, shifting her bag on her shoulder. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow. I'm going to stay at Cosette's tonight…we figure we'll be too drunk to drive, so we're taking a cab back there."

"Good idea," Enjolras remarked. "I'll probably be coming back here. I'm planning on having a beer or two, and then coming back."

"Okay. Have fun?" Éponine phrased it as a question. Enjolras laughed.

"You too." Before he could talk himself out of it, he moved forward and wrapped Éponine in a hug. "Be safe," he said against her hair, the smell of her shampoo making him slightly dizzy. She too was breathing deeply; he smelled vaguely like cologne, a sort of musky smell that made her hesitant to pull away.

"You be safe, too." Éponine said into his shoulder. He pulled back, a small smile on his face.

"Bye,"

"See you later," Éponine said, ignoring her thumping heartbeat, and turned toward the door. Enjolras leaned over and opened it for her, and she disappeared down the stairs. Enjolras took a deep breath as he closed the door; the air suddenly felt a bit lighter, and _maybe_ the bachelor party wouldn't be as bad as he originally thought.

* * *

He had been so, _so_ wrong.

Courfeyrac and Combeferre had picked him up at nine, and they had driven fifteen minutes downtown to a brightly lit storefront, complete with a neon sign of a woman kicking a leg in the air. Enjolras had taken one look at the place, before turning to Courfeyrac with an annoyed look on his face.

"I knew there would be a stripper, but I didn't realize we were going to a strip club."

"Who told you there was going to be a stripper?" Courfeyrac asked with surprise, ignoring Enjolras's question.

"Cosette, but that doesn't matter…"

"God dammit, Marius." Courfeyrac growled. "Next time, we don't tell him anything."

"That's not the point, Courf, I don't care about the stripper, I'd rather just get a drink with you guys at a bar…"

"Alright," Combeferre said, before his boyfriend could retort. "Let's go in here for a little while, just to appease everyone, and then we'll head to the bar, deal?"

"Deal." Enjolras sighed; he did not feel like arguing.

When they entered the strip club, they were met with an already intoxicated Marius. He waved them over to their "VIP area" – which was really only a booth in a corner – where the rest of the men were already sitting. Enjolras sat down, and was immediately given a tie that said "groom" on it.

"Are you kidding?"

"Nope, we're not. Put it on." Bahorel instructed. Enjolras sighed, but obliged.

"Take this shot," Joly said, grinning ear to ear as he passed Enjolras a full shot glass. Enjolras closed his eyes briefly, cursing his friends in his head, before tossing back the burning liquid.

"Good?" Joly asked, to which Enjolras gave a thumbs up.

"Great." He affirmed, while trying not to gag; the shot was _disgusting_.

"I'll get us another!" Joly said happily. Enjolras tried to stop him, but it was too late; he had already skipped away to the bar. At that moment, a woman sauntered over to Enjolras, a small apron around her waist. She stopped in front of him, her eyes wandering down to the tie around his neck.

"You're the groom?"

"Yes," Enjolras said, leaning over to yell over the music. "Could I just get a glass of water for now, please, my friends are getting more shots…"

"Oh, honey," the woman said, a smirk on her face as she reached down to undo her apron. "I'm not the waitress." Without another word, she dropped the apron, revealing a floss-thin thong. She settled herself into Enjolras's lap, her legs straddling him on either side, her hands undoing the back of her shirt. "You want to take this off?"

Enjolras gulped. "Not really,"

"Jesus Christ, Enj, just do it." Feuilly said, rolling his eyes in agitation. He was holding his phone in his hand, recording the whole thing.

"It's okay, honey, I've got it," the stripper assured him, before tugging the shirt over her head, and pushing her breasts toward Enjolras. The amis began to holler in appreciation, snapping photos and laughing to themselves, while Enjolras silently prayed for it to end. He held his arms rigidly at his sides, his hands balled into fists. He felt absolutely no desire for the woman in his lap, but the friction of her dancing was making his pants tighter.

His face reddened at the feeling of his growing erection, and he forced his mind away from the situation. He tried to think of anything else, and his thoughts finally came to a rest on Éponine. She had smelled really nice earlier that day, he remembered, and he would have given anything to be with her, instead of at the strip club. His thoughts soon changed direction, and he thought of Éponine in his lap, Éponine grinding into him, Éponine in that outfit…

Finally, the song was over, and the woman crawled off his lap. He looked down at his very obvious arousal; thinking of Éponine had made it much, much worse. He tried to readjust his pants before any of his friends saw, but, of course, Grantaire noticed right away.

"Marble man, my _ass!" _ He called, pointing at Enjolras's pelvis with glee. Everyone immediately glanced down – Jehan even stood – to see. Peals of laughter echoed through the corner of the club, and Enjolras thought he would die from the embarrassment.

"Guess he didn't mind the stripper after all!"

"You want her to come back over here, Enjolras?"

"No," Enjolras said firmly, annoyance creeping into his voice. "I do not." He grabbed a shot off the table and threw it back in one fluid motion. Combeferre raised an eyebrow.

"Should we head over to the bar?"

"Yes," Enjolras grumbled. He reached over and took the shot that was sitting in front of Joly, and threw that back also.

"Woah, you doing alright chief?" Courfeyrac questioned. Enjolras shrugged his shoulders.

"I'm fine,"

"Maybe he just needs some action," Grantaire mused, glancing back at Enjolras's erection. "You and Éponine bone yet?"

"No." Enjolras said, clenching his jaw in agitation. "Let's go to the bar,"

The group stood, Enjolras leading the way to the door. They piled into two cars – Combeferre and Jehan were both designated drivers – and drove away. Once they were moving, Enjolras looked up, silently hoping that Éponine was having a better night than he was.

* * *

After their spa day – which, admittedly, had been amazing – Éponine, Cosette, and Musichetta went to an early dinner, before heading over to a ladies' night at a club. Women got in for free, and upon their entrance, the three girls were handed a complimentary drink.

"This is good!" Éponine said happily, leaning down to adjust her dress. Musichetta had insisted they all get dressed up, and had forced Éponine into one of her very short, and very tight dresses. She was also wearing heels, and her hair was curled to perfection.

"It is! Here, take this!" Cosette said, fishing a sash out of her purse. It said "bride-to-be", and Éponine laughed, before putting it on over her head.

"Maybe we'll get some free drinks from the bartenders," Musichetta mused. She and Cosette were both wearing sashes that said "bridesmaid".

"I hope so!" Éponine said, leading the girls toward the bar. They all sat down with their backs to the bar to face the dance floor. Despite it being ladies' night, there were still several men in the club.

"I wonder how the bachelor party is going," Éponine said, glancing at her phone to see if she had any messages from Enjolras. "I haven't heard from him,"

"Joly said they were on the way to the strip club when I talked to him a few minutes ago."

"Enjolras is going to be pissed that they're going there," Cosette said, to which Éponine shrugged.

"He kind of expected it."

"He's a trooper." Éponine said, smiling slightly as she took a sip of her drink. Musichetta raised her eyebrows at Cosette, before turning to Éponine.

"Any moves on the romance front?"

Éponine coughed. "What do you mean?"

"You and Enjolras. Living together…I mean, we're all expecting _something_ to happen."

"Nothing has happened."

"Do you _want _something to happen?" Cosette asked. Éponine hesitated.

"I wouldn't…hate it if something did."

Musichetta screeched, before slapping Éponine on the arm. "I knew it! You couldn't live with a guy like that, who looks like _that_ without having some sort of feelings."

"I don't know if I'd say feelings, but we're definitely getting along."

"Would you, or would you not have sex with him?"

"I don't know."

"Yes, you do." Musichetta countered.

"Okay, I might. We haven't even kissed, guys, it's not like we're on the brink of doing it."

"Fine," Cosette said, bumping Éponine's arm with her elbow. "But it could happen."

"It could."

"Good enough for me," Musichetta said, smiling widely, before standing up. "Come on, let's dance."

* * *

"POUR SOME SUGAR ON ME…. IN THE NAME OF LOVE! POUR YOUR SUGAR ON ME! COME ON FIRE ME UP!" Courfeyrac screamed into the microphone. The group had gone from the strip club to a karaoke bar, where everyone was in stitches, laughing at each other attempt to sing. Grantaire, who was supposed to be singing 'Pour Some Sugar on Me' with Courfeyrac, was doubled over in laughter, unable to participate.

Enjolras was grinning ear to ear; _this _was his idea of a good time. He was slightly intoxicated; the three shots at the club, two at the bar, and now a beer, were starting to kick in. When the song ended, the amis all stood up and clapped enthusiastically. Even the bartender joined in, and slid a free beer over to Enjolras.

"When's the wedding?" he asked.

"One week," Enjolras said, grinning to himself as he considered the proximity of the ceremony.

"Congratulations," he said, smiling at the look on Enjolras's face.

"Thank you,"

"What on earth…Cosette, what are you…" Marius's voice broke into Enjolras's conversation, and he turned, taking in the sight of Éponine, Cosette, and Musichetta standing in the bar.

"We had some issues with some guys at the club," Musichetta said, waving a hand. "So we decided to go to karaoke. Didn't know this was the bar you guys would be at,"

"But I told –" Joly began, but Musichetta shot him a look.

"What kind of issues?" Enjolras asked, standing from his seat at the bar – and stumbling slightly – before moving to stand in front of Éponine.

"It's fine, Enjolras, just some guys that wouldn't leave us alone. Even though I'm clearly getting married," Éponine said. She sounded more annoyed than upset, which Enjolras took as a good sign.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." Éponine said. "Security wouldn't kick them out, so we just decided to leave."

"Are you two okay?" Enjolras asked Musichetta and Cosette, who both nodded.

"Well, you missed a winning rendition of 'Pour Some Sugar On Me'." Courfeyrac bragged, slinging an arm around Enjolras. "And you obviously missed the strip – "

"Enough, Courf," Combeferre said, hooking a finger around Courfeyrac's belt loop to pull him away from Enjolras. "How was your day, besides the end of the club?"

"It was good," Éponine said, smiling at Cosette and Musichetta. "We had a nice day at the spa, and then dinner, and we got some free drinks."

"Let's have a toast!" Marius said, handing a beer to each of the girls. "To Enjolras and Éponine, whose parties somehow collided tonight, but we're really glad because we all really love each other." He practically fell over as he spoke; he had consumed so much alcohol.

"To Enjolras and Éponine!" The group echoed, before drinking deeply from their beers. Cosette drifted over to Marius, who asked her loudly when she would like to get married, to which everyone laughed. Éponine took a seat at a table, and Enjolras drifted over to her.

"Hi," he said, bracing himself on one side of the table. "You look really pretty,"

Éponine blushed. "Thank you," she said quietly. "It's kind of more appropriate for a club, but…"

"No, I like it." Enjolras affirmed, cursing himself when he realized he was staring at her cleavage in his alcohol induced haze.

"Thank you," she said, taking another sip of her beer. "Was tonight as bad as you thought it would be?"

"No," Enjolras said, shrugging his shoulders. "The stripper was a really unnecessary thing, but the rest was good. Karaoke is fun. You're here now, so that makes it better. I'm glad you had a nice day."

"I did," Éponine affirmed, choosing to ignore his comment about her arrival at the bar. "I think I'm going to sleep at the apartment, instead of Cosette's."

"Combeferre is going to drive me back, so he can just take us both."

"Okay,"

"Just let me know when you're ready."

"I'm ready whenever you are,"

"I'm kind of tired," Enjolras admitted. "I drank more tonight than I usually do."

"That's fine, I am too." Éponine said, smiling at his confession. "I'm ready to go when you are."

"Hey, 'Ferre!" Enjolras said, turning to find his friend. Combeferre wandered over, dragging a very drunk Courfeyrac by the hand. "Do you think you could drive us home?"

"Yep, let me just grab my jacket," Combeferre said. Enjolras nodded, before moving away from the table.

"Should probably thank everyone," he mumbled, to which Éponine nodded. Enjolras began to make his rounds through the bar to thank the amis for the night out. Éponine hugged Cosette and Musichetta, thanking them as well. Éponine and Enjolras met Combeferre at the door, and after one last wave, the trio departed.

Once they were out of earshot, Musichetta rounded on Joly. "You almost gave it away!"

"Gave what away?"

"That I knew you were here!"

"But you did know we were here!"

"I _know_ I knew, that's why I brought Éponine here!"

"Ohhhh," Joly said, dragging the word out. "Why?"

"Jesus Christ." Musichetta swore, before touching Joly's cheek affectionately. "I love you, but sometimes you need to keep up a little better."

"Éponine definitely has feelings for Enjolras," Cosette blurted. "So we took her here so they could leave together."

"You think something will happen? Something sexual?" Grantaire asked, to which Musichetta shrugged.

"Maybe not tonight. But we need them to spend as much time together as possible, right?" Everyone nodded in agreement. "And _maybe_, they'll fall for each other."

* * *

"You want to watch a movie?" Enjolras yawned. He was seated on the couch of their living room, the remote in his hand. "Atonement just started a few minutes ago."

"Sure," Éponine agreed. She had just changed out of her dress and put on pajamas. Enjolras stifled a laugh as he turned on the movie. "What are you laughing at?"

"Your pink bunny pajamas."

"I like these."

"I do too," Enjolras said, still laughing as Éponine sat down next to him. She smacked him on the arm with a huff, before settling into the couch.

For about twenty minutes, the movie passed without incident. They had both seen it before, and were therefore only half paying attention to the television; both Enjolras and Éponine were consciously aware of the proximity of their bodies on the couch.

Soon, however, something on the screen caught both of their attention: the sex scene in the library. In the film, Robbie pushed Cecilia against a bookshelf, lifting her off the ground as he entered her. Enjolras felt his cheeks turn red as he glanced at Éponine, to the bookshelf in their own living room; his thoughts were definitely turning toward a more…inappropriate direction.

Éponine was thinking the exact same thing. She too was looking at the bookshelf in their living room, considering how it would feel to have the shelves pushed into her spine as Enjolras kissed her, held her, pushed himself into her…

Enjolras began fanning himself with his hand, trying to look anywhere but the television; the tension in the room was palpable. He wondered vaguely if Éponine was thinking the same thing as him, or if she was just enjoying the movie like a normal person.

"Enjolras," she said, breaking into his thoughts. He turned to her, taking in the slight flush of her cheeks. "I think you should kiss me."

"You…what?"

"I think you should kiss me. We're going to have to kiss at the ceremony, we're supposed to be a couple, and all pretenses and illusions aside, I'd really like you to kiss me."

"You want me to kiss you?"

"Yes,"

Enjolras needed no further clarification. He turned his body sideways on the couch, and leaned forward, grateful for the traces of alcohol left in his system to give him courage. He cupped the side of Éponine's face in his hand, surprised at the heat coming off her cheeks, before leaning in to press his lips to hers.

Unlike her cheeks, her lips were cool. They were soft against his, and he moved hesitantly to deepen the kiss. He felt her tongue against his lips, and without restraint, opened his mouth to allow her entrance. He ran his tongue along hers, tasting the faint trace of beer. Éponine made a small noise in the back of her throat, and Enjolras realized that he needed her closer; needed to feel her body on his, needed her hair threaded through his fingers, her skin under his hands. He reached over, his hand gripping her hip, before pulling her toward him.

It was all the motivation she needed to move to straddle him, her lips never separating from his. Her teeth nipped his bottom lip as she ground her pelvis into his, relishing the feeling of stimulation, the stirring arousal through the thin material of her pajamas. His hands rested on her lower back, his fingers splayed to feel as much of her as he could. They were in a frenzy; Enjolras couldn't get enough of tasting her, of feeling her lips against his, of her body flush with his own.

She pulled back, looking lazily into his eyes, a smile on her lips. "I think we should do that more often,"

"I think you're right." Enjolras said, his breathing heavy. Éponine laughed, leaning forward to peck his lips again, her hand running through his hair.

"I mean, we're going to be married, right? We might as well enjoy some of the benefits." Éponine reasoned. Enjolras nodded vigorously.

"Absolutely." He agreed, pushing himself up off the couch to kiss her again. She smiled against his lips.

"I think it's bed time," she said, a trace of regret in her voice. She knew, however, that the longer they stayed on the couch, the higher the probability was of doing something they'd regret in the morning.

"It is," Enjolras breathed. Éponine extricated herself from his arms to stand. Enjolras scrambled off the couch to stand in front of her, his fingers pushing her hair behind her ears, seemingly of their own accord.

"Goodnight," Éponine whispered, standing on her tiptoes to press her lips to his one last time. She stepped back and walked down the hallway, waving to him, before disappearing from view. Enjolras flopped back onto the couch, running a hand through his hair, an overwhelmed look on his face.

He turned back to the movie, smiling to himself as he considered the past ten minutes. He glanced at the bookshelf in the living room, a blush creeping onto his face. Maybe they should watch Atonement more often.

* * *

**so, they've kissed! I hope you all enjoyed this; please let me know your thoughts, and if there is anything in the next few chaps you'd like to see! We're getting closer to the wedding! xoxo Brittany **


	11. Chapter 10: Gifts

**Hello, everyone! Thank you all for the response to the last chapter; you guys are amazing! We are getting so close to the wedding! **

* * *

**Chapter 10: Gifts **

"Okay, so how did we meet?"

"Did you hit your head? We met in college." Éponine said, looking at Enjolras with a look of confusion. She had been in the middle of preparing dinner – pancakes – when he had waltzed into the kitchen and asked his question.

"I know _that_," Enjolras said, rolling his eyes. "I mean, how did _we_ meet, like the Éponine and Enjolras that are getting married in four days."

"Oh, _that._ You want to rehearse our relationship stories." Éponine said, realization clear in her voice. She turned away from him to flip their pancakes on the griddle. "You think a lot of people will ask at the rehearsal dinner?"

"Our friends know to go along with whatever we say." Enjolras said, leaning against the counter, his arms crossed in front of his chest as he watched Éponine cook. "But my parents, your family, my co-workers…they might get pushy. We should at least have a few stories set."

"I say we keep the college thing as the story of how we met," Éponine reasoned, reaching over to turn the burner off. "The closer we keep to the truth, the easier it will be to keep it straight."

"I agree," Enjolras said, reaching into the cabinet behind him to grab plates for dinner. "So, we met in college, when did we start dating?"

"We've been secretly dating for a year, that's what we already told our friends,"

"So _how_ did we start dating?"

"Um." Éponine said, putting three pancakes on each of their plates. "I'm not sure. I'm not very creative."

"You are too," Enjolras said, raising an eyebrow. "We could just say the sexual tension got to us. People love that kind of thing before weddings."

"True," Éponine mused. She picked up her plate, walking through the kitchen out to the small dining area. "We could say that. And then people will want to know about our first kiss, first fuck, first everything."

"I know," Enjolras said, sitting down in the chair across from her. "People get so _nosy_ when it comes to these things."

"How would you know?"

"My parents dragged me to a lot of family member's weddings when I was younger. It's awkward for everyone, especially kids, since they don't understand half of what's happening."

"Well, then, what should we say?"

"How about…wait when did you move into your apartment?"

"Uh…like…a little over a year ago?" Éponine said, wracking her brain for the date.

"Okay, so how about I helped you move in – "

"You did help me move in."

"I know, keeping close to the truth, remember? So, anyway, I helped you move in, and then after, we had a couple beers at your new apartment, and things happened, the sexual tension was lifted, and we became a secret couple."

"We're going to need to explain why it was a secret," Éponine pointed out. "Your parents, and my family won't take too kindly to that, I'm sure."

"Maybe…we were worried that it would mess up the dynamic of our friends? So we decided to keep it to ourselves to make it less awkward for everyone, especially if it didn't work out?"

"Works for me," Éponine agreed. "That's actually a pretty good story."

"And then, one day, I proposed. And then here we are."

"Okay," Éponine said slowly. "We need a proposal story. You know everyone will ask."

"And I told my boss that we've been engaged for awhile." Enjolras said, scratching his head in frustration. "We're going to have to say that our friends knew for a long time, but we were working on the date and location, and that's why we didn't tell our families."

"That's fine," Éponine said, nodding her head at his story. "So, we were engaged for how long, five months? Six months?"

"Five should be good."

"At least our fictional relationship is longer than our two week engagement," Éponine joked, before plowing ahead with their story. "How did you propose?"

"It was so romantic." Enjolras deadpanned. "I asked you in a car and you yelled at me." Éponine laughed, and catapulted a piece of pancake at his head. He brushed it out of his hair, a silly grin on his face.

"You're leaving out the fact that you didn't _ask_, you _told_ me." Éponine reasoned, smirking as color flooded Enjolras's cheeks.

"I'm sorry about that, again, I never should have said it like that – "

"It's fine," Éponine said, smiling gently, before brightening. "Just make up for it in the fake story. How did you propose to me?"

"Well," Enjolras began, his eyebrows furrowed in thought. "I took you back to the Sorbonne, I think, to the classroom where we had our history class together. Where we first met. And I asked you there. What do you think?"

"That's really sweet," Éponine said appreciatively. "And, again, close-ish to the truth, since we did meet in history class. Such a romantic."

"And we waited to get the ring because you're picky, and I wanted you to have the perfect one."

"Right. And we already covered why we were late with the caterer."

"Exactly. Everything else…we can just say we're shitty planners. Procrastinators. That's all."

"Works for me," Éponine said, pushing her empty plate away from her. "I'm stuffed."

"Me too." Enjolras said, looking down at his own empty plate. "Want to play Yahtzee?"

* * *

The next afternoon, Éponine and Enjolras both received text messages from Combeferre, requesting their attendance at the Musain that night. Éponine had taken the couple days before the wedding off, in order to prepare for the parties and ceremony.

"Did you get this?" Éponine asked, indicating her phone. Enjolras nodded.

"Yeah, weird. It's only Tuesday. We usually all meet for dinner on Wednesdays."

"I just asked him why. He said not to worry about it and just show up." Éponine shrugged, before flopping on the couch next to Enjolras. "Want to watch a movie?"

Enjolras nodded; he knew the translation for 'watching a movie' was 'furiously making out on the couch'. Ever since their first kiss three nights prior – also during a movie – they had been taking every opportunity to get closer. When leaving for work, or arriving home from work (really, any passage through the front door), Éponine and Enjolras would kiss. What would start as a chaste greeting or goodbye would quickly turn into a full-blown make out session against the closed door.

Bedtime began to call for heated moments as well, usually on the couch, one of them on top of the other. Each night, Éponine could feel Enjolras's hardness pressing against her, and each night she longed to reach for it, to push him further, but every night, she lost her courage at the last second. At the same time, Enjolras wished for his own courage, to reach between her legs, hoping to find the moist heat that would indicate her reciprocal need for him. Each night, both went back to their own beds equally frustrated, furiously fixing their lust themselves, all while thinking of the person just down the hall.

As much as they wanted to, they knew the time was not right. Not yet, at least. Maybe not ever. They were not in love; despite their engagement, they were still only friends. And friends fool around _all the time_. At least, that's what Éponine kept reminding herself. Just because they wanted each other physically, did _not_ mean that there were any emotional attachments on either end. And that was just as well, because in a year, their 'marriage' would be over, and the less strings, the better.

* * *

Later that evening, Éponine and Enjolras drove to the Musain in a comfortable silence. They had spent the afternoon watching Titanic, which they had both seen several times. This, of course, had led to several hours of lazy kissing, short naps, and at times, minimal attention to the movie.

"Any guesses as to why we're all getting together?" Éponine asked, breaking the quiet in the car.

"None. You?"

"Nothing."

"They probably just want to drink more," Enjolras mused, as he turned into the café parking lot. "They didn't have enough on Saturday night."

"I heard Joly was puking for a few hours,"

"Doesn't shock me," Enjolras laughed, putting the car in park. He pulled the key from the ignition, pausing to reach across the center console to lay a hand on Éponine's wrist. "I'm sure it's nothing serious."

"I wasn't worried," Éponine whispered. "I just don't know what's going on."

"I know. I would rather be back home, watching another movie."

"You want to watch a movie, or do you want to _watch a movie_." Éponine laughed. Enjolras's hand moved from her wrist, to her thigh, where it rested lightly.

"I want to kiss you, honestly." He said, leaning forward to lightly press his lips to hers. "But if any of our friends see," he breathed, his lips moving against her ear. "They'll never let it go."

"I know," Éponine said, her face turning red as Enjolras's breath continued to ghost over the curve of her ear. "If you keep doing that, though, I'm not going to care."

"Sorry," he said, pulling away. He pressed a quick kiss to her cheek and squeezed her hand. "Ready to go in?"

"I guess," Éponine grumbled, feeling the uncomfortable presence of lust prickling at her body. She would have been content to stay in the car for hours. Instead, she unbuckled her seatbelt, and followed Enjolras into the café.

It was dark inside. Éponine groped for Enjolras's hand; she couldn't see a thing. Instead, she ended up grabbing his ass by mistake. "Sorry," she apologized, giving it a quick squeeze, before reaching for his wrist. He laughed, threading his fingers through hers.

"Are you really sorry?"

"Not particularly," Éponine admitted, squinting her eyes in an attempt to see. "Why is it so dark in – "

"Surprise!" The lights flipped on, illuminating all of Enjolras and Éponine's friends.

"What – " Éponine began, her hand (the one that was not holding Enjolras's hand) raised to her mouth in surprise.

"Well, we realized you guys forgot something in all your planning," Cosette began, a giant smile spread across her face.

"We absolutely did not," Enjolras said firmly, his eyes still darting around the room in confusion.

"Oh Auguste," Musichetta said, rolling her eyes in agitation. "You did. Your shower."

Enjolras's brow furrowed, and he turned around to Éponine. "How do they know I didn't take a shower today?" He muttered, low enough so only Éponine could hear. She stifled a laugh, a smirk on her face.

"They mean our bridal shower. Like…for gifts and stuff."

"Oh, of course." Enjolras said, color flooding his cheeks. He turned back around, and cleared his throat. "You're right, then. We did forget about the shower."

"We also realized," Cosette continued, the smile still on her face. "That you guys don't really _need_ a lot of stuff."

"You guys already have the usual shit, you know, toasters and plates." Grantaire interjected.

"So, instead, we decided to all pitch in, and throw this little party, which is really just a get-together, and an excuse to drink." Marius said, to which Enjolras threw Éponine a meaningful look.

"That's not it, though." Jehan said, a huge smile on his face as he practically skipped toward Enjolras and Éponine to hand them an envelope.

"What is this?"

"Open it," Musichetta said. Everyone's eyes were glued to the envelope in Enjolras's hands. He glanced back at Éponine, before turning it over, and sliding a finger under the flap to pry it open.

"What is it?" Éponine murmured, as she looked over Enjolras's shoulder. Her lips were close to his ear, and he cleared his throat, trying to steer his mind away from more inappropriate thoughts.

"Tickets?" Enjolras said, raising the papers closer to his face to see. "Airplane…Dublin…you guys…"

"We figured that you guys had spent enough money on this wedding, and that you'd be pretty ready to get away for a little bit," Bahorel said, nodding at the tickets in Enjolras's hand. "So, we all chipped in for your honeymoon."

"You guys, I can't…you didn't have to – " Éponine said, emotion choking her words as she looked from the tickets in Enjolras's hands to their friends.

"We know." Feuilly said. "But we wanted to."

"This whole thing has really sucked," Combeferre said gently. "For both of you guys. Enjolras, for getting arrested, and Éponine has been such a good friend through all of this…you guys deserve something, a chance to get away."

"We put an itinerary in there, with the train tickets, and your hotel reservations." Courfeyrac said excitedly, bouncing on his toes. "You'll be going to Dublin, the Ring of Kerry, Galway, the Cliffs of Moher…a lot of really great places. Two weeks total."

"And," Cosette said, holding up her hands. "We've all already talked to the soup kitchen, and our own jobs. We'll be able to take over your position in shifts, so you don't have to worry about that."

"I don't know what to say," Éponine admitted tearfully. "This is so amazing you guys."

"You all didn't have to do this, you know." Enjolras chastised, before brightening considerably. "But I'm _really_ excited."

"Me too."

"Bring it in!" Marius commanded, holding his arms open. The group descended on Éponine and Enjolras, wrapping them in a group hug. They all stood in a huddle for a few moments, before Grantaire broke away.

"Now that that's out of the way," he began, a devious smile on his face. "Let's drink."

* * *

**Let me know what you guys think! Rehearsal dinner next, and then FINALLY the wedding! **

**xoxo Brittany **


	12. Chapter 11: Fights

**Hey everyone! Sorry this took a little longer than expected, BUT… I GOT INTO GRADUATE SCHOOL! WAHOO. I start in the Fall, and I'll be studying European History! **

**Anyway, in regards to the story, we're finally caught up to the prologue (the rehearsal dinner!). AKA one day before the wedding! As always, thank you for reading! **

* * *

Chapter 11: Fights

"Don't forget to do that face mask tonight, you know, for when you get married tomorrow."

"Cosette, if you remind me _one more time_ that I'm getting married tomorrow, I'll slap you." Éponine warned through gritted teeth. Cosette had the decency to look ashamed.

"I'm _sorry_, Éponine, but you're the first one of this group, and it's just exciting for all of us." She defended herself, turning back to the mirror to continue curling her hair. "And tonight's rehearsal dinner is going to be so fun!"

"So much fun." Éponine deadpanned. "Enjolras's family will be here, my foster family will be here, my _sister_ will be here, and Enjolras's _boss_ will be here. I can hardly contain my excitement."

"Rude," Musichetta chastised, walking backward out of the bathroom. "Zip up the back of this dress for me, will you?"

"I'm sure Enjolras will look very handsome in his suit," Cosette said thoughtfully. Éponine rolled her eyes as she gripped the bottom of Musichetta's dress to pull the zipper up.

"I'm sure he will,"

"Any progress on the whole sexual tension thing?" Musichetta asked. Éponine pulled the zipper up roughly, before sighing.

"Yes."

"Wait, what?" Cosette asked, whipping around in her chair to regard Éponine. Musichetta turned around as well, her eyebrow raised in expectation.

"We…may have…kissed."

"Once?"

"Um…" Éponine trailed off, her mind wandering to the night before. Things had gotten…heated. More heated than they had been in the past week. "No."

"Well, how many times? Estimate." Musichetta commanded.

"It's a…daily thing."

"Wait a hot second," Musichetta said, her hand on her hip. "You mean to tell us that you and that piece of ass have been getting hot and heavy every day, and you haven't told us?"

"It's not like a romantic development." Éponine said quickly. "I would tell you if it was something that mattered. It's just been physical. Just kissing."

"You sure about that?" Cosette asked knowingly, a smile on her face. "Remember what I told you, back when you got engaged. I always thought there was some chemistry there."

"I said the same thing to Joly," Musichetta agreed. "You've got the sexual chemistry, and you get along, and - "

"Guys!" Éponine said loudly, holding her hands up in agitation. "It's nothing, okay? It doesn't mean anything. If I could walk away from this wedding right now, I still would. It's kissing, it's just…friends helping out friends."

"Sure," Musichetta smirked. Éponine's face turned red, and she felt tears spring to her eyes.

"No, stop it, okay? I don't know what you guys expected from this! You thought that Enjolras proposing to me against both of our wills, because he got _arrested_ and had no other choice was going to lead to what? To an actual relationship? To anything more than just tolerating each other? Just because we live in close quarters and just because the tension got to us does not mean that we're anything to each other, so get over it!"

"Éponine, we – "

"No, Cosette, I'm serious. Enjolras is a friend. But this next year is going to _suck_, no matter what. I don't want to marry him. I don't want to live with him, and I would give back all the hooking up if it meant that I didn't have to do this tomorrow! So stop expecting that we'll fall in love, because it's never going to happen!"

Without another word, Éponine stormed out of the room, grabbing her dress off the back of a chair as she left. Because of her tears, she did not see the person standing outside the door, and promptly ran into them.

"I'm sorry, I – " She paused, looking up to come face to face with Enjolras, who had an unreadable expression on his face. "Did you – "

"I did," he confirmed, his eyes far away as he looked down at her. "Why are you crying?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "I don't know why I'm so upset."

"Other than the fact that you have to get married to me tomorrow, when it sounds like you'd rather do pretty much anything else."

"Enjolras, I – "

"Save it, Éponine." His voice was hard, and Éponine felt her heart sink. This…this was the Enjolras she was used to, the one from before. The Enjolras who closed everyone off, to focus on his job, and his studies. The Enjolras whose cold and calculating demeanor had convinced everyone that he wasn't interested in relationships. She had thought that the old Enjolras was gone. That he had been replaced by the man who put on movies so he could kiss her, the one who spilled his life story to her, the one who threatened revenge after a cake smash to the face.

But when she stopped and considered, it had only been two weeks since they had been engaged. Did she really think she could change him? And now, after he heard everything she had said?

"I didn't mean, I just wanted them off my case – "

"I never expected anything to happen between us," he said coldly, cutting her off. "I was shocked when you agreed to the plan. I was grateful. I thought if we could focus on getting through the next year, that everything would be okay."

"It will, and we will –"

"Things…got out of control." He said, almost as an afterthought. He was trying hard to sound nonchalant, even though he had the strange feeling that he was about to be sick. "We got a little out of control. Our friends talked, and the lines blurred, and I think you're right…I think us just _tolerating_ each other would be best."

"Enjolras – "

"We have to keep up appearances, though, at least for tonight and tomorrow." he said, gritting his teeth in agitation. "We have to act the happy couple. We can drop the act tomorrow night after the reception."

"Fuck your appearances," Éponine spat, gathering her dress in her arms as she pushed past him. "And fuck you."

* * *

"Well, this is just _thrilling._" Courfeyrac deadpanned. It had been ten minutes since he, Combeferre, and Marius had entered the banquet hall, and Éponine and Enjolras still had not shown up. On one side of the room stood Enjolras's family, their lips curled in derision as they looked across the room at the Amis. Behind Enjolras's parents stood Laura and Mark Waters, Éponine's foster parents, along with Azelma, who was glued to her cell phone. Aside from their families and the Amis, Enjolras's boss was also in attendance.

"Where is my sister?" Gavroche had already crossed the room to stand with Courfeyrac.

"Good question," Combeferre remarked, as he turned around and rolled his eyes. "Cosette and Musichetta saw her like an hour ago while they were getting ready."

"I'm sure they'll be here in a minute," Marius assured Gavroche, before exchanging concerned glances with Combeferre; Gavroche, of course, did not know that the marriage was a lie.

"So much for the frickle frackle bet," Courfeyrac said under his breath. Marius responded by slapping him on the arm.

"There's always the other bet,"

"The murder one?"

"Yes, but – oh, shit, here they are," Marius said, nodding toward the opposite door. Éponine and Enjolras appeared in the opposite doorway and made their way into the room, holding hands and smiling around at the guests.

"Hello, everyone!" Enjolras said, a note of false cheer to his voice. The Amis knew that the fakeness of his tone would be imperceptible to the other guests, but to them, it was obvious that something had happened. "Thank you all for coming tonight." A smattering of applause echoed through the room at his words.

"If you'll all have a seat," Éponine said. Courfeyrac turned to Combeferre, an alarmed look in his eyes.

"She's been crying," he whispered, to which Combeferre nodded.

"I can tell." He affirmed, before steering his boyfriend by the elbow to the table. "Let's sit…we'll talk to her when we can."

Éponine, Enjolras, Cosette, Musichetta, Courfeyrac, and Combeferre shared a table at the head of the room. The remaining Amis shared another, with Enjolras's boss. At a separate table sat Laura, Mark, Gavroche, Azelma, and Enjolras's parents, Peter and Ella.

For a few moments, the rehearsal dinner passed in relative calm. Drinks were poured, and the chatter was low. It wasn't until after the food was ordered, that questions started being asked.

"So," Sebastian began, looking around at the Amis. "It's all just so exciting, isn't it? The wedding."

"It is," Marius agreed, exchanging a nervous glanced with Grantaire, who was sitting next to him.

"They weren't together very long, were they?"

"Well, not that _we_ knew of," Jehan said, laughing to himself. "They kept it a secret from us."

"They didn't want to mess up the dynamic of our group. We're all very close." Grantaire affirmed. The other Amis nodded in agreement.

"It seems very strange to me, that Auguste went on leave from his job right before the wedding announcement." Sebastian commented. Grantaire fought the urge to roll his eyes, before answering.

"We suppose they just wanted more time to plan, and time to just spend together right before the wedding." He said shortly. Of course, Sebastian had only guessed that the Amis knew that Enjolras had been arrested.

"Of course." Sebastian said, as his gaze wandered to the head table. "They don't look very pleased, do they?"

"Enjolras is nervous," Joly said quickly. "And we've heard from the girls – " he paused, to look at Marius. " – that Éponine is nervous as well."

"She is," Marius confirmed. Sebastian raised his eyebrows, and leaned back in his chair.

"Of course."

* * *

Across the room, the conversation was no better.

"The wedding, so sudden, isn't it?" Ella Enjolras remarked, her eyes straying to her son. "Very…odd circumstances."

"Very," Her husband, Peter, agreed. "But, Auguste has never quite gone with the grain, so to speak."

"What do you mean?" Laura asked politely. Peter laughed in response.

"We've been quite well off for all of Auguste's life," he said shortly, to which Gavroche rolled his eyes. "Auguste, however, has decided to fight for the rights of the less fortunate, and live well below our means. We even offered to pay for the wedding, even though we only met your daughter this evening."

"She's their foster child, Peter," Ella reminded him, and he raised his hands in apology.

"Of course. And what of her birth parents?"

"Our birth parents were criminals. They were arrested a few years ago." Azelma said, a bored tone to her voice. Laura gave her a look across the table.

"Azelma, be nice – "

"Is no one going to guess that Éponine is knocked up? Let's be real."

"Azelma!"

"Don't be such an asshole," Gavroche deadpanned, to which Azelma punched him on the arm.

"You would defend her, you spend all your time with those _boys _–"

"That is enough!" Mark said loudly, throwing an apologetic look to Peter and Ella.

Gavroche rolled his eyes again, glancing over at Courfeyrac, before pulling out his phone.

* * *

"Look at this text I just got." Courfeyrac said lowly, tilting his phone toward Combeferre. The text was short, and to the point: _Kill me_.

Combeferre chuckled, before taking the phone and showing the text to both Cosette and Musichetta, who stifled their laughs into their wine glasses.

"What's so funny?" Éponine asked hesitantly; she knew that the two girls were still irritated from their fight.

"Text from your brother. He's not having a very good time over there." Cosette said shortly. Éponine glanced over to the table, where Gavroche was sitting between Azelma and Laura.

"Well, if he's having to talk to my parents, I'm not surprised," Enjolras said, shrugging his shoulders as he considered his family over his champagne glass. "They're usually bad company. They've probably insulted Éponine's family twenty times in the last half hour."

"They're staying down at the Ritz, right?" Éponine asked, to which Enjolras gave a short nod, but said nothing. She looked down, biting her lip in embarrassment; would he ever look at her with warmth again?

"You two are being pretty obvious," Musichetta commented. "Knock it off. Joly just texted me and said that Sebastian asked them if you two were fighting."

"Do we look like we're mad at each other?" Enjolras asked, to which all four members of the wedding party nodded.

"Try smiling." Courfeyrac commented, to which Éponine and Enjolras both rolled their eyes.

"Listen," Combeferre hissed. "We know you two aren't pleased with each other right now, but you have to act like you're getting along, okay? This will all be for nothing if the falsity of this marriage comes out!"

"You're right," Enjolras sighed. Musichetta smirked from across the table, before picking up her knife and hitting it against her glass.

"What are you – " Éponine asked, to which Courfeyrac rolled his eyes.

"You guys have to kiss when that happens."

"We really don't – "

"You really do." Combeferre said, glancing pointedly at Sebastian.

Enjolras sighed, before plastering a smile on his face and leaning toward Éponine. She smiled as well, her eyes closing automatically as her lips met Enjolras's. For a second, there was nothing. No heat, no movement. Something, however, took Éponine over in that second: all the anger, and the annoyance…the fact that Enjolras was mad at _her_ for being upset about getting married, when _she _was doing _him_ a favor. He had a _lot_ of nerve.

She angrily pushed her lips against his, her teeth biting into his bottom lip, as her hand rose to the back of his head, her fingers threading through his hair. He responded with equal fervor, knocking his teeth into hers as he tried to taste as much of her as possible. The low rumbling from the back of his throat only served to entice Éponine further, her other hand working up his leg to his growing erection.

A faint ringing brought them both back to earth, and Éponine pulled back, her chest heaving, her hand still resting just off the bulge in his pants, her eyes ablaze as she considered him. She had not seen him like this in a long time; their kissing in the past week had been sweet, but _this_…this evoked the image of a younger Auguste Enjolras, clad in bright colors, addressing crowds of people at the University, his words eliciting riots, and his nights ending in jail. His eyes had burned with fire then, too.

"That was literally _disgusting._" Azelma complained, a sentiment that was echoed by Gavroche. Enjolras's parent's mouths were hanging open in shock. Mark had looked away, and Laura looked torn between amusement and disgust. Sebastian stood to use the bathroom, a sour look on his face; surely, a couple that was faking marriage would not kiss like _that_.

Once Sebastian had left the room, Courfeyrac, Combeferre, Musichetta, and Cosette all excused themselves from the head table to run to the rest of the Amis, leaving Éponine and Enjolras alone.

"Jesus fucking _Christ." _Musichetta breathed. "If I hadn't rang that glass again, I'm not sure they would have stopped!"

"Well," Grantaire began, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. "Anyone else want in on the frickle frackle bet?"

* * *

**Hope that made up for the long wait! The next chapter is the wedding! xoxo Brittany **


	13. Chapter 12: Bells

**Hello, everyone! I had thought I was going to put the reception in here as well, but it just wouldn't fit in! So here is before the ceremony, and the wedding itself, and then next chapter will be the reception…and something…VERY interesting that I am planning. HA. As always, thank you for the love, reviews, and PATIENCE! **

* * *

Chapter 12: Bells

For the (seemingly) thousandth time that morning, Éponine sighed. She had sighed when she woke up, sighed when she looked in the mirror, sighed through her entire shower, and now, was sighing at the awkward silence that hung in the small room off the chapel, where she, Cosette, and Musichetta were getting ready.

"Guys," Éponine said exasperatedly, to which both girls jumped. "I know things are awkward, and I said some shit yesterday to both you guys, and to Enjolras that I shouldn't have said. I'm sorry about…everything. As unexcited as I am for this wedding, I _am_ excited about getting to dress up and spend the day with you two, and all the guys. Can we _please_ put yesterday behind us and focus on having a good day?"

For a moment, neither Cosette nor Musichetta said a word. Éponine looked between them in rapid succession, waiting for an answer. Suddenly, Cosette's eyes began to fill with tears.

"Cosette, _no_, don't cry, use your words…" Éponine trailed off as Cosette threw herself into her arms.

"I'm sorry, too," she cried, her voice muffled as she dug her face into Éponine's shoulder. "We shouldn't have pushed you for information, or tried to convince you so much that you and Enjolras should be together..."

"It's okay," Éponine assured her, patting her on the back. "It's all okay."

"Well I'm not sorry for pushing you for information," Musichetta said loudly, crossing her arms in front of her chest indignantly. "I think, that as your closest friends, you should have told us when something happened with Enjolras. We're _girls_. We thrive on that shit."

"I know, 'Chetta, I – "

"I am, however, sorry that we've been trying to force you and Enjolras together," Musichetta continued, taking a small step toward Éponine and Cosette. "Despite our opinions, it was really none of our business."

"Thanks, 'Chetta." Éponine said softly, holding out one arm to allow her to join the hug.

"And I agree," Musichetta began, stepping into the hug, and wrapping her arms around both girls. "We need to use tonight as an excuse to just go _crazy_. Just have a great time. Drink a lot. Celebrate…our friendship."

"Absolutely," Cosette said, sniffling as a small smile spread across her face. "We've got some work to do in the meantime,"

"Work?"

"Aside from the fact that we've been crying, and the wedding is in less than an hour, we should probably all get dressed."

"You're right," Éponine admitted. The only thing that had been done was their hair. Their faces were bare of makeup, and they were all still wearing only undergarments and robes.

"Alright." Musichetta said, stepping out of the hug and clapping her hands. "Dress time."

* * *

Across the chapel, the men were having a similar chat.

"So, I think that we just use tonight as an excuse to be together and make merry," Grantaire announced, as he struggled to arrange his tie.

"You use every night as an excuse to make merry," Courfeyrac pointed out, to which Grantaire shrugged.

"I don't usually make merry in a tux."

While the other men laughed at the joke, Combeferre wandered over to Enjolras, who was standing in a corner in front of a mirror. "Everything okay, Chief?" he asked, nudging him with his elbow. Enjolras smiled slightly, and shrugged.

"I don't know."

"You've usually got all the answers," Combeferre reminded him.

"I know I do,"

"What's up this time? We always joked about you and women not going together, but we both know that's not true. You've got a gift with people, women included. And Éponine is our friend. So, what's the deal?"

Enjolras sighed. "I don't know Combeferre. It's fucking confusing, you know? I feel awful, pulling her into this. This whole marriage, and everything, is my fault. If I had just minded my business, and done my job, we wouldn't be here. And I feel so terrible that I'm doing this to her."

"Okay, that seems natural. What else?"

"I feel shitty too, like I practically lost my job, my boss hates me, and all the aspirations I had working for the Ministry of Defense just went out the window."

"Again, natural…at least for this situation. What else?"

"Éponine and I…you saw last night." A faint tinge of pink appeared on Enjolras's cheeks.

"There is chemistry," Combeferre noted. "Not that anyone is shocked. You said it yourself, she's attractive."

"And smart, and just… we're friends, right? I've just…always been involved with bigger things, with causes and charities. And I guess…I guess I thought that this marriage…it was a cause too, you know? To keep me from getting kicked out of France. And I just figured that I could stay focused, and everything would be good at the end. That's why I was so…insulting at the beginning of it all, so unattached… I didn't consider any emotions."

"On whose part? Your emotions, or Éponine's?"

"Both," Enjolras admitted. "We've been…getting closer over the past week. And she made a comment yesterday about it being because we lived in close quarters."

"What else did she say?"

"She said she would give anything to stop this wedding," Enjolras admitted, his eyes wandering down to the clip on his tie. "And…like I said, I thought I could stay focused. Like this was a cause. And I didn't expect her words to…hurt."

"And they did?"

"They did." Enjolras said quietly. Combeferre clapped a hand on his shoulder and squeezed, a wry smile on his face.

"Welcome to dating," he said, to which Enjolras cracked a small smile. "Unfortunately, your first experience with this comes with the added stress of a marriage, and your boss breathing down your neck. Everyone goes through this though…the confusion. The not knowing if something is actually _something_ with someone. It all gets better. And you learn."

"Maybe I'd be better off if I was gay," Enjolras said, raising an eyebrow. Combeferre chuckled, his eyes straying over to Courfeyrac, who stuck his tongue out at the pair.

"Trust me," Combeferre said, turning back to Enjolras. "Relationships are complicated no matter _who_ the people are."

* * *

"You look beautiful, Éponine." Mark Waters smiled at his foster daughter as she entered the foyer of the chapel at the Sorbonne. She blushed, looking down at her wedding dress.

"I got lucky, they had a dress already altered to my height." She had picked up the dress the day before, and was relieved that with the slight alterations, it fit like a glove.

"You made the perfect choice," Mark said, glancing past Éponine to Cosette, who was holding the veil. "Should we put that on? The ceremony will be starting any moment."

"Of course," Cosette said. She and Musichetta stood on either side of Éponine, and tucked the clip into her hair. The hair stylist had decided on a half up, half down look for the bride, with soft tendrils curled away from her face. The ends were also curled, and the effect fit in perfectly with the sweetheart style of the dress.

Cosette started to flip the veil over Éponine's face, but Mark stilled her motions with a touch of his hand, and a smile. Cosette nodded, and she and Musichetta hurried away to the corner of the foyer.

"You know," Mark said softly, his hands resting lightly on Éponine's arms. "I always got the sense that you didn't feel as much a part of our family as your siblings. You were older when you came to us, but we always considered you our daughter, just as much as Azelma."

"Mark, I – "

"Hold on, let me get this out," he said, drawing in a breath. "I want you to know how proud of you we are. Laura and I…we knew we could have more influence over Gavroche and Azelma, simply because they were younger when they came to us. You…we were worried that you had been with your parents for so long that you may struggle. You proved us so wrong, Éponine. You finished school, you got a great job helping other people, and now, you're marrying a wonderful young man. We are _so_ proud of you, I can't even begin to tell you all the ways."

"Mark, thank you," Éponine choked out, her eyes filling with tears. Mark smiled, squeezing her arms as he reached around to grasp her veil. He gently pulled it over her head, shrouding her face in the sheer lace.

"Let's go get you married."

* * *

"You did grab the ring, right?" Combeferre hissed at Enjolras, who was standing next to the priest at the altar. His eyes widened, his hand flying to his pocket, where his fingers came into contact with the wedding ring.

"I've got it."

"Good."

"How long are we going to have to stand up here?" Courfeyrac whined. Combeferre nudged him in the ribs, rolling his eyes.

"Not much longer."

"Can someone _please _tell Grantaire to stop making faces at me," Enjolras said, his eyes going skyward. Combeferre chuckled, glancing over at Grantaire and shaking his head disapprovingly. Before he had a chance to respond, the organ came to life, and music filled the room. Enjolras's head snapped back down, his fingers flexing nervously as the door at the end of the chapel opened.

Musichetta was first, followed closely by Cosette. They were both carrying white flowers, their hair done in intricate buns, their steps measured as they walked up the short aisle. Marius and Joly both whistled appreciatively as their girlfriends passed them, to which Musichetta laughed, and Cosette blushed.

The music changed, and Enjolras focused his attention on the end of the aisle. Mark appeared first, quickly followed by Éponine, who was clutching his arm. She looked up, and even through the veil, Enjolras could tell she had her eyes locked on his.

He didn't know much about wedding dresses, but he knew that Éponine's was beautiful. She wasn't a very tall woman, but in the dress she looked like a goddess, the white material glowing against her tan skin, the train following her every step as she got closer and closer to the altar.

He realized, though, that the dress wouldn't look so amazing on any other girl, because it_ wasn't_ the dress that gave her the ethereal visage, it was her. It was the light, and the beauty that _was_ Éponine, not what she was wearing. It was her laughter, and their fights, and the flush of her face after he kissed her, her complaints about him leaving his books in her new bedroom, her smashing cake in his face, her listening to his childhood stories, and just everything that was uniquely _Éponine_ that made her so stunning.

"Fuck," Enjolras said quietly, letting out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding. Combeferre chuckled quietly from next to him.

"She looks beautiful."

"She _is_ beautiful." Enjolras responded in awe. Combeferre had been right: it _was_ his emotions that had gotten tangled into their fake marriage. He could almost forget their arrangement, forget his exile, forget _everything_, because somehow, in less than two weeks, Enjolras realized he had fallen for the woman now standing in front of him. Whatever it was – he wasn't sure if it was love, or if it would be - the close quarters had brought it out, but maybe…maybe it had always been there. His friends had always called him the Marble Man, but the marble had cracked like glass.

Pulled from his thoughts, Enjolras silently shook Mark's hand, his lips seemingly glued together as he finally looked at Éponine. Mark had lifted her veil to give her away, and her eyes, misted with tears, were trained on his face.

He opened his mouth, but found no words. Instead, he leaned forward, his hand cupping her chin as he gently pressed his lips to hers. For a moment, she didn't respond, but finally, he felt her lips curve into a smile, her hand reaching to touch his. Laughter echoed through the chapel, but Éponine and Enjolras were both ignorant.

"I'm sorry," Éponine whispered against his lips. "I'm sorry for what I said."

"I'm sorry I overreacted." Enjolras said back, his own lips curved into a smile. "I was scared that maybe you didn't feel the same way about me."

"I'm terrified of this," Éponine admitted, her voice still low enough that no one could hear, not even the priest. "I was scared this was only an arrangement to you."

"It was, but it's not anymore."

In lieu of answering, Éponine grinned, leaning forward to press her lips to his once more. Finally, the weight was lifted, and she felt content. She had been terrified of admitting that her friends were right, terrified of giving into her feelings with the assumption that Enjolras did not share them. The fact that he did, that his reaction to her words before the rehearsal dinner was due to his own feelings for her…was incredible.

"If you two are finished, we do have a ceremony to hold." The priest said humorously, to which Éponine, Enjolras, and their audience laughed.

"Sorry, Father," Éponine grinned, and she and Enjolras stepped apart, grasping hands to allow the wedding to begin.

In all, the pair barely listened, and only spoke when they had to. They were both thinking of other things, of each other, and how they were supposed to start _dating_, when they were now _married_. It was certainly a question that didn't cross many newlywed's minds.

"And do you, Auguste Enjolras, take Éponine Thenardier to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

"I do."

"And do you, Éponine Thenardier, take Auguste Enjolras to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

"I do."

"By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you Man and Wife. Now, Mr. Enjolras, you may kiss your bride."

Their friends and family laughed as Enjolras grinned, leaning down to kiss Éponine. Their friends hollered from the audience; they weren't sure _what _had transpired at the beginning of the ceremony, but they could all tell it was something big. Enjolras's parents, and Éponine's family clapped as the newly married couple finally broke apart, grinning as they faced their crowd. Éponine looped her arm through Enjolras's and they made their way back down the aisle, to the limo waiting in the front of the church that would take them to their reception.

On the way out, Enjolras made eye contact with Sebastian and Henri, who were sitting in the back row of the chapel. Enjolras raised an eyebrow and shrugged, his message clear: whatever evidence they thought they had regarding the validity of the marriage was completely null. Sebastian struggled to keep his face neutral as Éponine and Enjolras passed him, their wedding party just behind.

Once outside, Enjolras reached across Éponine to open the door of the limo. Cosette and Musichetta both hurried forward to gather Éponine's dress as she stepped into the car. Once all the material was inside, Enjolras closed the door, turning to their friends and family as they trickled out of the chapel.

"We'll meet you all at the Musain!" He called, waving as he jogged around to the other side of the car. He opened the door and entered the limo, with much more ease than Éponine. Once the door was closed, Enjolras let out a deep breath, and turned to face Éponine.

"Hi," she said simply, to which he grinned.

"Hi."

"What happens now?"

Enjolras shrugged. "We go to our rehearsal dinner, have a great time, and then we have our honeymoon in Ireland."

"Then what?"

Enjolras, who had always planned out everything, considered the question. Everything over the past few weeks had been unexpected, from the trouble at work, to the exile, to Éponine agreeing to marry him, to exactly where they were at that moment.

"I think," Enjolras said slowly. "I think we figure it out as it comes."

* * *

**Was this supposed to be this fluffy? Nope. But that's what happened when I wrote it, so there it is. I'm squealing, I'm so excited that this happening in this story. HOWEVER. You guys know me. Is it always going to stay this happy? ABSOLUTELY NOT. **

**Keep in mind, too, that Enjolras and Éponine have not admitted that they are in love. They've admitted feelings, and a mutual desire to be together. I can see some readers feeling like it moved too fast, so I just wanted to reiterate that. **

**As always, thank you for all your love and support! I'm hoping to be back with another chapter within two weeks, but if it's going to be too much longer, I will update a preview on my tumblr, which is miserablesmusings. xoxo Brittany**


	14. Chapter 13: The Bedroom

**Hey everyone, I am so sorry for the delay. This class is killing me! I will not forget about this story, though, so no worries there…no matter the break between chapters!**

* * *

**Chapter 13: The Bedroom **

"And now, the bride and groom will share their first dance."

The air was lighter, the mood more carefree as Éponine accepted Enjolras's outstretched hand, and followed him to the dance floor. Over the past few hours – ever since their realization that they both had feelings for each other – the world felt…easier. Simple. Straightforward.

The beginning of the reception had passed in a frenzy of food, drinks, and photographs. In most circumstances, Enjolras would have been annoyed by the spectacle, by the self-indulgence. With Éponine by his side, though… nothing really seemed that bad. He had always assumed that women were a distraction, but he now felt capable of _anything,_ as if her very presence had inflated his own capabilities.

And now, as he took Éponine in his arms, Enjolras felt everything melt away. They swayed to the music – neither of them were good dancers – as Éponine rested her head on Enjolras's shoulder. As the song ended, she nuzzled her nose into his neck, her breath hot on his skin.

"I'm really happy," she confessed, even though it was obvious; she thought her face may break she was smiling so much.

"I am, too." Enjolras murmured. He had already grappled with _what_ exactly they were; not in love, certainly, but also more than friends. Dating? But they were married. It was all very complicated. "Question for you," he said finally.

"Yes?" Éponine hummed.

"I've been thinking…what exactly are we?"

"Humans," Éponine replied smartly, to which Enjolras rolled his eyes.

"Okay, smart ass."

"You told me earlier that we would figure it out as it came, remember?"

"I remember," Enjolras allowed. "But still…I was just thinking about it, and – "

"Of course you were _thinking_ about it," Éponine teased, and Enjolras laughed, his nose scrunching at the slight insult. Two weeks ago, he may have taken offense to jabs toward his overactive mind. Now, however, the tease was fresh, and warm coming from Éponine's lips.

"Anyway," Enjolras plowed on. "What are we?"

"I don't know," Éponine confessed. "We're married, for one. But really…we just started dating. So…we're just…together. Learning. Figuring each other out." _Falling in love_, she added in her own mind.

"And what happens if we figure out that we don't like each other as much as we think we do?"

"We'll figure that out, too."

* * *

Later that night, after all the dancing and drinking was done, Enjolras and Éponine waved to their friends as they entered a taxi. They were staying the night in a hotel near the Paris Orly airport, as their flight to Dublin for their honeymoon was the next morning. Once the car started moving, Éponine took a deep breath.

"That was fun."

"It was," Enjolras agreed, surprised at how relaxed he felt. As evidenced by his bachelor party, he was not one for too much drinking and debauchery. The night, however, had been a fun one, especially after his parents, Éponine's foster parents, and Sebastian and Henri had left for the evening. Enjolras, Éponine, their friends, Gavroche, and even Azelma had welcomed the opportunity to dance and drink once they had the room to themselves.

The newly married pair settled into a comfortable silence in the backseat of the taxi. Éponine snuggled into Enjolras's side, his hand resting lightly on her thigh as the Paris lights whizzed by their window. The airport was only a twenty minute drive from the Musain, but even so, Éponine felt herself falling asleep.

"Wake up," Enjolras whispered, his hand gently shaking her leg as they pulled into the hotel. He could see the lights of the airport runway in the distance, the blinking signals guiding the way for landings. Éponine stirred, her dress rustling as she stretched. She blinked, lifting herself off the seat to peer out the window.

"We're here already?"

"We are," Enjolras affirmed, reaching to open the door. Their taxi driver was already pulling their bags out of the trunk as Enjolras stepped out of the car, holding a hand to help Éponine – and her dress – onto the sidewalk. Enjolras took their two bags, nodding his thanks to their driver. The pair turned from the car to the hotel, and entered the lobby.

"Hi, one night reservation under Enjolras?"

The concierge nodded as she entered the name into the computer. A few short moments later, she handed over the room keys, and a pass for the airport shuttle for the next morning. Éponine yawned, leaning her head on Enjolras's shoulder. He smiled gently, before guiding her to the elevator, and pressing the button for level four. The ride was short, and it wasn't long before they were standing in front of their door.

Enjolras turned the key and paused, grabbing Éponine's arm before she could enter. She turned to him, her hair slightly askew, her eyes questioning.

"I…um…have to carry you over the threshold." He stuttered, to which she smiled, stretching her arms out to allow him to pick her up. He dropped their luggage, and hurried to gather her in his arms, one hand wrapped around her back, the other on the back of her knees. She leaned over to kiss him on the cheek, smiling as he stepped through the doorway, pausing to click the light on.

"Oh…lord." Éponine said, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the room. There were several stains on the walls, a strange smell in the air, and the carpet appeared to be from the time of the French Revolution.

"Ah." Enjolras said, still gripping Éponine in his arms. "I was going to throw you onto the bed, but I'm not sure it's clean." Instead, he set her gently on the floor. Éponine approached the bed cautiously, leaning down to smell the sheets.

"Detergent." She affirmed, pulling back the comforter to check the sheets. "And no bugs. Check under the bed." Enjolras obliged, dropping to his knees to look, and finding nothing.

"Okay, we can deal with this for the night." Éponine said, as she sat on the bed, her fingers already working to pull the pins from her hair. As loose waves tumbled down her back, Enjolras gulped, his face reddening as he considered that _this was their wedding night and holy shit they might have sex._

"Well, it's probably low wages, you know? The help at this hotel probably gets paid close to nothing, so they don't take much care to do a good job. And if there's no wages for the help, then there's definitely no money to fix things like the walls or to replace the carpet. Since it's next to the airport, too, there's probably no guests that stay longer than one night, so who's going to complain about that, right?"

When Auguste Enjolras was nervous, he rambled. Specifically, he rambled about human rights, the one subject he knew back to front. When he felt out of sorts – which he _definitely_ did as he watched Éponine relax on the bed – he needed to fall back on something. Anything.

"You're right," Éponine sighed, seemingly ignorant of his internal torment. In reality, she was just as nervous. She had been acting when she fell asleep in the car earlier; it had been the only way to calm her racing heart.

Enjolras took a seat next to Éponine on the bed, his shaking fingers beginning to loosen his tie. Combeferre had tossed a condom at him as they left the rehearsal, and he had seen Musichetta winking at Éponine. He _wanted_ to have sex with her, of course, but he was nervous as all hell. They had _just_ made things official – wedding notwithstanding – and this was a big step.

"Enjolras?"

"Hmm?"

"What's the matter?"

"Why?"

"You're shaking." Éponine pointed out. Enjolras looked down to see his hands shaking, and his knee bouncing.

"Uh. Well…"

"Is this about the sex thing?" Éponine asked bluntly. Enjolras closed his eyes briefly, before turning to Éponine.

"Yes."

"If you're that nervous, we don't have to." Éponine said shortly. Enjolras furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

"No, I mean I want to, I'm just – "

"I know. I'm sorry. I'm nervous too." She apologized.

"You are?"

"Yes."

"Okay," Enjolras let out a large breath, his anxiety lifting slightly. If Éponine was nervous too…well, at least it wasn't just him.

"I mean, I haven't…you know…done this in…awhile." Éponine said lamely, refusing to meet his eyes as her fingers picked at the quilt on the bed. Her last remotely sexual experience – before the heated movie nights with Enjolras – had been two Christmases ago, with a man she had met through Musichetta.

"I haven't either." Enjolras affirmed. It had been nearly two years since he had last been somewhat serious with someone. He wasn't one to spend much time out at the bars, so the opportunities for one night stands had been sparse. Not that he had ever really been interested in them anyway.

"I feel like we're overthinking this." Éponine admitted. Enjolras nodded.

"I don't think it's a secret that I'm attracted to you," he said, surprised at how easily the words fell from his mouth. "Before our…falling out we were…well, you know."

"I know," Éponine smiled, hesitantly reaching over to rest her hand on Enjolras's thigh. He looked down at her hand, and then back to her face, throwing caution to the wind as he surged forward to attach his lips to hers.

It was a frenzy of lips, hot breath, and tongues fighting for control as the pair fell onto the bed, Enjolras's weight on Éponine. After several moments, Éponine pushed on his shoulders, and he pulled back, worry creasing his brow.

"What's wrong?"

"I can't feel you," Éponine said, glancing down at her dress, with its multiple layers of fabric. Enjolras blushed slightly, pushing himself off the bed to rest on his knees, still straddling Éponine's hips. He took her hands, pulling her to a sitting position, his fingers moving to her back. After several seconds of struggling, he sighed, moving forward to rest his chin on Éponine's shoulder, his eyes searching down her back for the start of the ribbon holding the bodice together.

Éponine, taking full advantage of Enjolras's position, began to nibble at his neck, the first couple bites eliciting soft groans from his throat. The fumbling of his fingers at her back became more frenzied, and Éponine chuckled as she blew cool breath over trails her tongue had left on his skin.

"Is that necessary?" Enjolras growled, his knees tight around her hips as he finally found the end of the ribbon. He pulled it free, the bodice of the dress loosening as he straightened, sitting back on his heels as he considered his wife.

"Very necessary," she said smartly, before pushing him off of her lap and standing. A wiggle of her hips, and her dress fell to the floor. Enjolras let his eyes roam her body, feeling the pool of lust in his pelvis. She was wearing simple undergarments – a white lacy thong and matching bra – but on her…

"You're beautiful." Enjolras said firmly, causing a blush to spread across Éponine's cheeks. She self-consciously looked down, stepping out of her dress to stand in front of him. He raised a finger to her chin, tilting it up until they were eye to eye. "I mean it."

"Thank you," Éponine said, her hands raising to rest on Enjolras's belt buckle. She undid it slowly, her gaze still trained on his face as she unbuttoned and unzipped his pants. She pushed them down his hips, and Enjolras quickly removed his shoes, kicking them off to the side, along with his trousers. He was aware of his already growing erection as Éponine began to unbutton his shirt. When Éponine reached the bottom button, Enjolras shrugged the shirt off his shoulders, allowing it to fall to the floor behind him.

Éponine threaded her arms around his neck, pushing herself onto her tiptoes to reach his lips. She pecked them, a smile spreading as she felt his skin meet hers, the feeling of his desire pushing against her own. With his hands on her hips, Enjolras spun Éponine toward the bed, pushing her gently back onto it, before climbing on top of her. Resting on his elbows, he looked down, brushing his nose against hers.

"You're sure about this, right?"

"I'm very sure," Éponine affirmed, her hands gripping his shoulders. He nodded in understanding, before leaning down again to press his lips to hers. It started slow, and gentle. Enjolras reached under Éponine to unclasp her bra, surprising them both when he got it on the first try.

"Good job," she praised, and he shrugged modestly as he dropped the garment on the floor.

"That was just luck," he promised, smiling as he kissed her lips, before moving to her neck, her chest, and finally to her breasts. He was gentle, and restrained as he experimentally swirled his tongue around one nipple, raising his eyes to gauge her reaction. Her eyes were closed, and her mouth slightly open as her breaths came more quickly, which Enjolras took as a good sign.

Cautiously, he skimmed his nose past her breasts, down to her navel, his breath hot on her skin, his fingers hesitantly hooking around her thong. He felt her breath hitch as he tugged, her hips pushing off the bed to allow him to pull the garment down her legs. He cleared his throat, heat flooding to his cheeks as his eyes met her…_ down there, Jesus Christ Enjolras for the love of God if you can put your face near it you can certainly say vagina. _

"Uh…" he stuttered, trailing off. Éponine pushed herself on her elbows, her cheeks flushed as she regarded Enjolras. "How do you…"

"Circles. Just circles. With your tongue. Please."

Enjolras felt his erection twitch as the word 'please' fell from Éponine's mouth; was she _begging_ him? Ego stroked, Enjolras moved forward, positioning himself between her thighs, his tongue protruding slightly from his mouth, hesitantly flicking her clit.

"Higher."

Okay, so not her clit. Enjolras obediently readjusted, a satisfied feeling enveloping him as he felt Éponine's thighs twitch around him; he had clearly found the right spot. He moved his tongue in circles, slow at first, relishing the sound of her quiet moans. A glance upward, and Enjolras could tell that she was gripping the sheets, twisting them in her hands, which he took as a _very _good sign.

A second later, he increased his tempo, still working his tongue in circles. Éponine's moans became louder, more breathy, as if she was having trouble drawing air from the small hotel room. Enjolras reached up, grasping both her hips in his hands, trying to get – if possible – closer to her. She blindly reached forward, tangling a hand in his hair, her pelvis grinding into his face.

"Ah, shit, fuck, shit…" Éponine swore, her body convulsing as orgasm hit, the wave of cold sweat breaking over her body, her heartbeat stuttering, her toes curling, her fingers twisting painfully in Enjolras's hair. After several seconds, she fell back onto the pillows, her breathing still labored, her hands relaxing their grip on the sheets and her husband's hair.

From his position – still between in legs – Enjolras grinned. A sense of self-pride washed over him as he dragged himself up Éponine's body, his eyes crinkled in a smile as he regarded her. She looked flushed, and content as he lazily pecked her lips, before collapsing his body onto hers.

"That was…amazing." Éponine said with conviction, noting the tremor in her legs, the last aftershocks of her orgasm. "You…wow."

"Hmm." Enjolras hummed in acknowledgement. Éponine pushed gently against Enjolras's shoulders, rolling him onto his side and facing him. She glanced down at his erection, pushing against his boxers, suddenly conscious of her own nakedness. She hooked a finger around the waistband of his boxers, tugging them toward his feet. Enjolras got the hint, lifting his hips, and wiggling out of the garment, before tossing it to the floor, and laying down to face Éponine again.

She gently wrapped her hand around Enjolras's shaft, the first feeling of her skin on his eliciting a small gasp from his lips. He rested a hand on her hips, his lips parted as she began to work a steady rhythm, pumping him from base to tip. She could soon feel precum – he had already been aroused – and took it as evidence that he was ready.

"Do you have a condom?" Éponine asked quietly, hooking a leg around his hips and gently rubbing his tip against her folds, the action causing his whole body to twitch in anticipation.

"Yes," Enjolras said breathlessly, reaching forward to peck her lips, before rolling sideways off the bed to retrieve his pants. He rummaged through one pocket, producing the square package, which he ripped open hurriedly with his teeth, before rolling the condom down his length. He approached the bed slowly, sinking back down onto the mattress, resuming his former position.

"Do you want me to – "

"I can get on top – "

Both Éponine and Enjolras giggled, the tension lifted slightly as Éponine shrugged her shoulders, pushing Enjolras down on his back. She swung one leg over his hips, her entrance poised over him. She leaned forward, one hand resting on his shoulder, the other wrapped around his shaft as she guided him into her, slowly, testing his size, feeling herself stretch to accommodate him. Once he was fully inside, she stopped to take a breath.

"Are you okay?" he asked, trying to sound concerned, even though all of his focus was on how totally _enveloped_ he felt.

"I'm fine, I'm just taking it slow," Éponine said quietly. This feeling – the fullness – was somewhat _foreign_, and she needed to get used to it.

"Take your time," Enjolras said quietly, though he knew it wouldn't be long before he was finished. In his defense, it had _really_ been a long time.

"Okay," Éponine breathed, pushing herself up again, waiting until she reached the tip, before lowering herself again. A couple seconds later, she increased the tempo, finding her rhythm, a smile overtaking her face as she leaned up to press her lips to his.

His arms wrapped around her back, his hands following her motions as their tongues tangled together. Enjolras could feel himself getting close; his breaths coming quicker, his heart pounding as she rode him, his hands unconsciously pulling her harder onto his hips, until finally it was too much, and he felt himself lose control, the orgasm hitting him hard, washing over him as he emptied himself into the condom. The speed of Éponine's motions slowed down until she stopped, Enjolras's twitching member still inside her, her hair falling over his face as a smile spread across her lips.

"That was…" she trailed off, unable to find the right word.

"Too short?" Enjolras remarked, and Éponine slapped him playfully on the arm.

"No," she said, lifting her hips to allow him to fall from her. She hovered over his body, leaning forward to kiss his lips, his cheeks, his eyelids, and the tip of his nose. "It was perfect. Perfect first night with my husband."

Enjolras grinned, in spite of himself, stretching to peck her lips again. Éponine rolled to one side of the bed, walking toward the bathroom. Enjolras stepped off the bed as well, leaning down to slide the condom off, careful not to spill on the floor.

"And hey," Éponine said, leaning out of the bathroom, a mischievous look in her eyes. "We've got _plenty _of time to practice."

* * *

**phew! That was a long chapter! Hope you guys enjoyed; I tried to make it as realistic as possible for a first sexual encounter…these things are never fluid, and almost ALWAYS awkward, so I tried to portray that. Next chapter is the honeymoon in Ireland! Let me know what you guys thought of this one! xoxo Brittany **


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